#And then come back and continue the discussion

[joemama-2]

velvet lies

pairing: gojo x fem reader synopsis: crippling debt and possible evictions have ruined you. working two jobs with no downtime, and a five-year-old son, you really don't know the meaning of taking a break. after continuous questions about his father, you have decided to finally let your son meet his dad. only thing is, he has no idea said son exists. and to top it off, you have not a single clue about what kinds of things will transpire from this sudden revelation. wc: 8.2k tags/warnings: 18+ MDNI, smut, fluff, romance, alcohol, classism, mom! reader, lying, abuse, MAJOR angst, slow burn, exes to lovers, (mentions of) cheating, scandals, death, blood, drugs, drama, family drama, miscommunication, blackmail, unhealthy coping mechanisms , depression, manipulation series masterlist < previous chapter < next chapter

“You look so handsome like this…” a sultry chuckle is followed by a warm kiss to the lips. The man with a receding hairline laughs in a slimy way, welcoming the woman into his lap. Arms settled around her midsection, indulging in her lips. 

The moment is quickly shut down when an intruding voice cuts in. “Haruka! Some guy is waiting for you at the door.”

With a huff, she pulls back. Lip curled up into a scowl, turning her head over her shoulder to face the man at the top of the stairs. “Tell ‘em I’m busy, damn it!” She snarls out. 

The man sighs and rubs his bald head. “I already did. He said he wants to speak to you, now hurry up here.”

When the door slams shut, she turns back to her customer. “I’ll be back.” She smiles and kisses his wrinkly cheek before getting up and off his lap. She fixes her clothing, a simple tank top and shorts. Looking at the small mirror, she frowns and straightens down her hair. She’s reminded to dye her hair black again to cover up the incoming gray hairs that always greet her nowadays. She applies her usual red lick back to her skin, perking them up with a small pop noise. Her eyes, beady and dark, fixate back up at the door while her feet drag her. 

Once she’s up in the main portion of the building, she rounds a corner and sees a neatly suited man standing at the front desk. The man who called her attention before gives her a certain look before walking off and letting her deal with it. She smiles, leaning against the hardwood. “Why, hello there, handsome. How may I help you today?”

The man, undeterred and stoic, regards her with barely any emotion. The dark sunglasses on his face obscuring his eyes and Haruka’s brow twitches for a moment in annoyance. She still keeps up her game, however. Resting her cheek against her palm. “Well? How can I—”

“Ms. Haruka, right?” 

The stranger’s voice is deep and defined, causing Haruka’s eyebrows to raise in interest. Her smile widens and she hums playfully. “Ah, well depends on who’s asking. If it’s you, then you can call me Candy.” She whispers the last part, leaning in like she told him a big secret; giggling to herself. 

The man spares a brief glance down at his wristwatch. Haruka notices its pristine gold, oh how valuable. An idea is already forming in her head when she looks back at the man’s black, circular shades. But what he says next causes her body to go into a temporary state of comatose. 

“Are you the mother of Y/N L/N? If so, please come with me. There are some things my bosses would like to discuss with you.”

It’s the day after Christmas. You luckily got the day off and you’ve just been lounging around your place with Koji. Eating some leftovers and cleaning up a bit, watching him rave about the new toys he got; it’s a pleasant sight. Satoru hasn’t texted you anything today, and while you’re not holding him to that expectation, there’s a part of you that worries he’s still angry. Or maybe even upset at the gift you got him. It probably brought up negative emotions for him. But it was a last minute thing and you assumed he would greatly appreciate it. 

Maybe your assumption was wrong. 

You shake off the thought, refusing to dwell on it. Satoru has always been hard to read, and overanalyzing his silence won’t do you any good. Instead, you focus on Koji, who’s currently making his action figures reenact some elaborate battle scene on the coffee table. His laughter echoes through the room, bright and infectious, pulling a small smile from you.

“Koji, don’t forget to put the smaller pieces back in the box when you’re done,” you remind him gently.

“Okay, Mama!” he chirps, not looking up from his imaginary world.

You take another bite of your leftovers, savoring the quiet domesticity of the moment. It’s not often you get a day to just relax like this. Still, that nagging thought about Satoru lingers in the back of your mind, no matter how much you try to ignore it. Your fingers reach up, feeling for the star pendant Suguru got you. Smiling to yourself as your fingertips graze over the metal. You’re suddenly reminded of the fact that you haven’t thanked him. 

You grab your phone, thumb hovering over his contact. It’s a small debate to call or text him, unsure of which is more…appropriate. Maybe he’s busy or maybe he wouldn’t mind a phone call at this time. You bite your lip, inhaling deeply then letting it go, deciding that your gratitude would feel more authentic if he actually heard you say it. 

You click the call button and within the second ring, his voice lightens up the other end. “Hello?”

You clear your throat before speaking. “Hey, Suguru,” you say softly, twirling the pendant between your fingers. “I hope I’m not interrupting anything.”

“Not at all,” he replies warmly, a hint of curiosity in his tone. “What’s up?”

As you pause for a moment, your thoughts are being gathered. “I just wanted to thank you… for the gift. The pendant, it’s beautiful.” Your voice dips slightly, the sincerity in your words undeniable. “You didn’t have to, but… it means a lot to me.”

There’s a brief silence on his end before he chuckles softly. “I’m glad you like it. I figured it’d suit you.”

You can’t help but smile, your fingers still tracing the small, intricate patterns on the pendant. “It does. Koji said it makes me look pretty.”

Suguru laughs at that, the sound soft and familiar. “He’s not wrong. The kid’s got good taste.”

A small heat pools in your stomach, cheeks blushing a bit. When you glance over at Koji, you notice just how engrossed he still is in his action figures. “He’s been talking about that Spider-Man you got him nonstop. He even took it to bed with him last night.”

“Really? That’s adorable,” Suguru comments, his tone light but carrying an underlying fondness. “I’m glad he liked it. He’s a great kid.”

“He is,” you agree, your voice softening. “I’m lucky to have him.”

There’s a pause, the silence between you both comfortable yet loaded with things left unsaid. Finally, Suguru breaks it. “How are you doing? After last night, I mean. Satoru told me he was going over.”

The question catches you off guard, and for a moment, you’re unsure how to answer. “I’m… okay,” you eventually get out, though it feels like a half-truth. “It was just… a lot. But we did it. For Koji.” 

He hums from the other side. “Yeah, that’s good. I figured.” A moment of pause before he continues. “Satoru can be… intense, especially when it comes to you and Koji.”

You let out a small, humorless laugh. “That’s one way to put it.”

“But other than that, it was good?”

“Yeah, I think so.”

He smiles. “I’m glad, you two deserve a good Christmas.”

With one hand, you bring your dirty dishes to the sink, the other keeping your phone to your ear. “What about you? Was yours good too?”

Suguru’s voice sighs wistfully. “It was, yeah. My team and I spent it handing out some gifts and hot chocolate to the kids. Seeing their faces light up with joy like that, it makes you feel really good, you know?”

Your heart warms at his words, picturing Suguru in his element—kind, compassionate, always thinking of others. You’re reminded back to the time you saw him that day with Koji. “That sounds wonderful,” you speak softly, leaning against the counter. “You’re really amazing for doing that, Suguru. Those kids are lucky to have someone like you.”

He chuckles modestly, the sound low and comforting. “I don’t know about amazing, but thanks. It’s just something small I can do. Makes the holidays feel more meaningful.”

You smile, twirling the pendant again as you consider his words. “It’s more than small. It’s thoughtful. It’s... you.” The words slip out before you can stop them, and you feel your cheeks flush immediately. Embarrassment floods your insides. 

There’s a brief silence on his end, followed by a soft laugh. “You’re too kind. But coming from you, I’ll take it as a high compliment.”

You shake your head, grinning despite yourself. “It’s not kindness. It’s the truth.”  

Koji’s excited shout from the living room snaps you back to the moment. He’s discovered a new pose for his Spider-Man, proudly showing it off as he runs over. “Mama, look!”  

Suguru must hear the commotion, his tone lightening further. “Sounds like someone’s having a good time.”  

“He is,” you say, watching Koji’s eyes sparkle with joy. You nod in astonishment. When your son is satisfied with your praise, he rushes back to the coffee table. “He’s been nonstop since yesterday. I think this Spider-Man might be his new best friend.”  

“Then my mission was a success,” Suguru replies with a chuckle. “I’ll have to find something to top it next year.”  

You bite the inside of your cheek while his words bring a pang of guilt. It’s strange; how easy it is to talk to Suguru, how natural it feels to share these moments. And yet, there’s a part of you that wonders if you’re leaning on him too much, especially with everything unresolved with Satoru. You wonder if what you’re doing is wrong, and considering Satoru’s reaction to his friend’s gift to you, you feel like you’re almost…betraying Satoru. 

“Thank you again, Suguru,” you repeat, your voice calmer now. “For everything. You didn’t have to go out of your way for us, but you did, and it means a lot.”  

“You don’t have to thank me,” he says gently. “You and Koji... you guys are important to me too, you know?”  

The weight of his words settles over you, warm and steady. “That means a lot to me too.”  

There’s another comfortable pause before Suguru clears his throat. “Well, I should let you get back to your day. I’m glad you called, though. Don’t be a stranger, okay?”  

“Okay,” you promise, a small smile tugging at your lips. “Take care, Suguru.”  

“You too,” he says, his voice lingering for a moment before the call ends.  

As you set your phone down, you glance at Koji, who’s now back to his world of action figures. You can’t help but feel grateful for the people in your life now who care so deeply about you and your son.  

But even with that gratitude, your thoughts drift back to Satoru, the press, his parents. And you ponder over the idea of what he’s doing right now, whether he’s holding onto the photograph, if he set it up somewhere; and what it might mean for the three of you moving forward.

There’s no time to start drowning in your thoughts any longer. You’ve already done that yesterday and practically every other day before that. A bigger question has been gnawing at you, and now that you have some free time, you figure you should look into it now. Grabbing your laptop, turning it on and clicking on Google once the screen awakens. The small business card is placed to your right as you type away the company name in the search bar. 

You click on the first link. 

It takes you to an entire directory of the services of Carlisle & Harlow. 

The website loads quickly, its sleek design showcasing high-end properties and exclusive services. The polished images of luxurious estates, private jets, and lavish vacation homes scroll past as you navigate through the various tabs. The site is clearly designed to appeal to an elite audience—every detail is immaculate. You skim through the different services offered, including property management, concierge arrangements, personal assistants, and lifestyle coaching. It all feels a bit too polished, almost like an invitation into a world you’ve only ever seen from the outside.

You feel a slight unease in your stomach. Your mind races back to the business card Evelyn gave you—one that seemed so out of place given everything else you’ve seen in your life. You click through to the “About Us” section, hoping to find more answers about what the company actually does or who else is behind it. 

The page provides a brief history, detailing the company’s founding by the woman, Evelyn Carlisle and her now deceased husband, Noah Harlow—both of whom have since made a name for themselves in the luxury service industry. 

You click on the “Our Team” link. Several executives are listed, each with brief bios that read like glowing resumes. Next, you click on the “Contact Us” tab, staring at the address listed—an upscale location in the city’s financial district. It’s the kind of place where secrets are hidden behind high walls and the name on the door probably has a lot of power behind it.

Taking a deep breath, you mull over this instance. Maybe it’s time to investigate further, but you’re not sure how much deeper you want to dig—especially not without some sort of plan. But that Evelyn woman seemed a little strange to you. It’s just the fact that everything felt quite planned out to you, like someone told her to come to your workplace and offer a job interview. Your intuition has always been right and ever since you became a mother, that increased tenfold. But, this seems like it might have more of a good outcome than a bad one. 

You wouldn’t have to maintain the hard balance of working two jobs and a child. As you continue scrolling and clicking on multiple tabs within the website, one catches your interest. 

‘About Our Founders’

You’re met with pictures of Evelyn and her husband, posing with what you can only assume are other businesspeople, with paragraphs of their background to go along with it. Nothing looks out of the ordinary so far, until a particular picture. 

It’s Evelyn and her husband. Posing with Satoru and his father. 

Your heart stops for a moment, your breath catching in your throat as you stare at the screen. The four of them are dressed impeccably, their expressions polished with smiles that feel carefully rehearsed. The caption beneath the photo reads:  

“Celebrating five years of partnership between Carlisle & Harlow and the Gojo Group, fostering innovation and excellence in high-end luxury services.”

Your stomach churns. The idea of Satoru or his family being involved in this job offer. And it almost makes sense now—Evelyn showing up at your workplace, the too-perfect job offer, the strange sense of everything being orchestrated. It wasn’t a coincidence. It couldn’t be. Unless it is?

Your fingers hover over the trackpad, trembling slightly as you click on the bio beneath Evelyn’s photo. Her background is as pristine as expected: Ivy League education, years of experience in luxury branding, and a reputation for impeccable taste. But it’s the section about her connections that catches your eye:  

"Evelyn Carlisle maintains close ties with prominent families, including the Gojo family, and has been instrumental in crafting tailored solutions for their elite clientele."

Your head spins. This isn’t just a job opportunity—it’s a calculated move. But why? Why now? And why through Evelyn instead of directly from Satoru or his family? You glance back at the business card on your table, its gold lettering gleaming in the soft light. It feels heavier now, like it’s carrying the weight of unseen motives.  

Koji’s laughter breaks through your swirling thoughts, grounding you momentarily. You look over at him, playing so innocently, so unaware of the tangled web you’re beginning to unravel. Taking a deep breath, you close the laptop and sit back. Whatever this is, it’s not just about you anymore. If Evelyn’s offer is part of some larger scheme, you’ll need to figure out the truth before you make any decisions.  

Maybe you’re overthinking this. The Gojo Group is huge and very obviously powerful, of course, they would have ties with Carlisle & Harlow. It’s not that far-fetched, right? It’s just a job opportunity, don’t think too much into it. 

It’s around the next day at work now. Walking to the café, phone in hand. Rereading Satoru’s first text to you since you last saw him, it’s not entirely underwhelming, you just hoped that he would have expressed his gratitude for your gift. 

Satoru:

Koji left his jacket here from last time, I’ll bring it over today

Your lips purse, thumbs going haywire over the bright screen. Should you ask if he enjoyed the gift? If he even opened it in the first place? Or maybe you’re dragging this out far too much. With a deep breath, entering the cafe, you type back:

You:

I thought you had work today 

Satoru’s response comes almost immediately, as if he was waiting for you to text back.

Satoru:

I do, but I can swing by during lunch. The place is a little far from me, can I come to your job and drop it off?

You hesitate, wanting to type back a ‘no’ as soon as he asked. It would feel a little weird if he came. Satoru and your workplace just don’t seem to mix—and you don’t want them to. If he came, it would only further solidify the fact that he’s integrating himself into your life. Again, you’re probably overthinking things, he’s just dropping off your son’s jacket. But the thought of seeing him right now feels oddly nerve-inducing. 

You:

Sure, I’m on lunch at 12

When you drop the pin of the café’s address, you pocket your phone and set your stuff down, tying the apron around your waist. Hana, on her phone texting, barely looks up when you enter. It’s becoming a bit more repetitive nowadays. Patting down the apron, you speak up. “Still talking to that Naoya guy?”

She hums and nods, giggling at something that was messaged before swiftly typing back a response. Your lips purse, brows knitting at her lack of acknowledgment for you. This guy must really be entrancing her. “He said he was coming today.”

“Oh, really?” You ask, offering a small smile. “I’ll finally meet the lucky guy.”

Hana’s eyes flick up at you briefly before returning to her phone, her cheeks slightly flushed. “Hm? Oh, yeah. but don’t embarrass me, okay?”  

You let out a soft laugh, shaking your head as you grab a few boxes to refill the supplies up front behind the counter, cutting them open. “I’ll try not to. Just don’t expect me to be on my best behavior if he’s rude.”  

She scoffs, though her grin betrays her amusement. “He’s not rude. You’ll like him, I think. He’s… different.”  

You arch a brow, intrigued by her tone. “Different, huh? Guess we’ll see.”  

Hana waves you off, clearly too engrossed in her conversation to elaborate further.  

And so, the morning drags on, and you can’t help but notice Hana glancing at the door every few minutes, a mix of anticipation and nerves written all over her face. Meanwhile, you busy yourself with the usual flow of customers, though your own nerves begin to creep in as the clock inches closer to noon.  

When the bell above the café door finally chimes, you glance up instinctively. A tall man with sharp features and an air of confidence steps in, scanning the room briefly before his gaze lands on Hana. His hair is slicked back neatly, and he’s dressed in a tailored coat that screams wealth and status. The tips of his hair dipped black, his eyes are so cat-like that it almost freaks you out at first.  

Hana’s face lights up as she quickly puts the cleaning supplies that were in her hands down and waves him over. “Naoya!”  

He strides over, a smirk tugging at his lips as he leans in to greet her with a kiss on the cheek. “Hana,” he says smoothly, his voice low and self-assured. 

Your eyebrows raise at the blatant show of affection in front of not just you—but the rest of the customers. It’s slightly unlike Hana because you remember her telling you how much she despised PDA. Maybe Naoya is making her come out of her shell. That’s good, right? You watch the interaction from behind the counter, your initial impression of him forming almost immediately. There’s something about his demeanor—charming, yes, but also a little too smug for your liking. Your senses are telling you to be subtly on guard around this man. 

Hana glances over at you, her smile widening. “Naoya, this is my coworker—”  

“Friend,” you correct with a playful smile, giving her a tiny look. It’s strange how she was just going to introduce you as a coworker when she always calls you her friend. Not thinking too much of it, you step out from behind the counter to extend a hand. “Nice to meet you, Naoya. I’m Y/N.”

He takes your hand, his grip firm but calculated. His eyes flicker over you briefly, as if sizing you up. If possible, his grin widens, eyes growing more crescent-like. “Pleasure’s mine,” he says, though the smirk on his face doesn’t quite reach his eyes.  

“So, you’re the one who’s been keeping Hana so distracted lately,” you remark lightly, folding your arms.  

Naoya chuckles, his gaze shifting back to Hana. “She’s easy to talk to. Hard not to get distracted by her.”  

Hana blushes, clearly pleased by the compliment, but you can’t shake the nagging feeling that there’s something a little… off about him.  “Well,” you say, forcing a polite smile, “welcome to our humble abode. Let me know if you need anything.”  

Naoya nods, his smirk unwavering. “Will do.”  

As you step back behind the counter, you catch Hana giving you a warning glance, silently begging you not to say anything more. You just shrug, grabbing the rag Hana previously discarded to wipe down the counter, though you can’t help but keep an ear on their conversation. They convert over to a booth in the corner, seemingly for some privacy. 

Something about Naoya sets your instincts on edge. Maybe it’s the way he carries himself, or the way his smile feels more like a performance than genuine warmth. He’s reminding you of Satoru, just more insidious. It’s probably a little rude of you to have such a critical judgment of the man who’s making your friend swoon, but isn’t that what friends, do? Making sure the men or women that come into their lives are worthy of it? Whatever it is, you make a mental note to keep an eye on him—if only for Hana’s sake.  

You stop eavesdropping. Hana’s a grown woman, if anything, she knows what’s more right for her than you do. Besides, you’re one of the only ones working right now, so it’s better to focus on delivering customer service than ensuring the man in the corner (who has been keenly drifting his eyes towards your figure) is good enough for Hana. Hana, oblivious to your discomfort, continues chatting with Naoya, her smile wide as she laughs at something he says. Her back is turned to you, and all you can do is concentrate on the rising sense of unease in your gut. It’s the way Naoya’s posture remains open and confident, but there’s a hardness behind his eyes that doesn’t sit right with you. He seems like someone who expects to get what he wants, and the thought of him using his charm to manipulate Hana makes you clench your fists beneath the counter. You’re just trying to understand the strange energy he brings into the environment. Maybe it’s your overactive imagination, but you still can’t shake the perception that there’s more to this man than Hana is seeing.

As you refocus on your tasks, you can physically feel the weight of Naoya’s gaze lingering on you. It’s subtle, but unsettling—like he’s paying more attention to you than he is Hana. You shake it off, putting your mind into the register as a customer walks up to place an order. However, the uneasy feeling stays with you. You move through the motions of your shift. Every time you briefly glance over to the booth, his gaze is drawn to you. Not in the way you’d expect a person to look at someone they’ve just met, but with something more calculating. It’s almost as if he’s analyzing you, but why?

You don’t even know how long it has been, at least 15 orders later, when the two walk back up to the front. Hana grabs your attention. “Y/N, Naoya brought up a really good idea. His friend owns that new bar I was telling you about a few weeks ago! Do you want to go out tomorrow after your other job?”

You glance up, a bit surprised by the invitation. It’s not like you haven’t been out with Hana before, but something about tonight feels odd. Maybe it’s Naoya’s presence, or maybe it’s the weird sense of being observed earlier. Still, it’s a chance to unwind, and Hana seems genuinely excited.

You give a soft smile, though it feels a little strained. “I don’t know, Hana. I’ve got a lot on my plate. Plus, I’m not sure about the bar idea... not really in the mood for crowds.”

Her eyes widen, and she steps closer, lowering her voice. “Come on, you deserve a break. You’ve been working so hard lately. It’ll be fun, I promise.”

You meet her eyes, trying to gauge her sincerity. She’s always been good at getting you to loosen up when you're feeling overwhelmed. Maybe it wouldn’t hurt to go for just a little while, but you still have reservations about Naoya. “Alright, I’ll think about it. I’ll see if I can get out earlier,” you say, trying to keep your tone light. “But no promises.”

Hana’s face lights up. “Yay! I knew you’d come around.” She looks over her shoulder at Naoya, who’s standing a few feet away, reading the two of you with an unreadable expression. 

You suddenly feel like this moment might be the start of something unpredictable. As much as you want to just go with the flow for Hana, a part of you ponders if there’s more to Naoya’s invitation than just a night out. But, for now, you push the thought aside.

“Well, you don’t want to miss out,” Naoya speaks up, chuckling to himself. “Just try. It’s called No Man’s Land. I’ll be there around 10:30 tomorrow night, hopefully I'll see you both there.”

You nod slowly, still hesitant about the whole thing. Something about the way Naoya phrased it—so casual, so sure of himself—rubs you the wrong way. There’s an underlying expectation in his words like he’s already decided that you’ll both show up. You’re not sure if it’s just his personality or something more, but the thought of him controlling the situation leaves you with a strange feeling. Hana, though, looks delighted. “It’ll be so much fun, Y/N. Just relax. A drink or two won’t hurt.” She flashes you a grin before turning back to Naoya, all smiles as she talks about what they’ll do at the bar.

You’re like an outsider, watching as Hana becomes more entangled in Naoya’s charm. You wonder if she sees it too—the little things about him that don’t add up. The way he already seems like the type of man to be just one step ahead with a plan. But she’s excited, so you don’t want to rain on her parade. Besides, you can always back out later if it doesn’t feel right.

Luckily, she sees him out right after. 

And unluckily, you’re waiting outside on your break for Satoru sooner rather than later. 

You glance at your phone once more, watching the minutes tick by. Your break feels longer than it should, and the anticipation of seeing Satoru again only adds to the anxiety that’s been building ever since your last interaction. You tell yourself it’s just a quick exchange—Koji’s jacket, nothing more. But every moment feels charged as if something is on the verge of shifting.

The cool air outside offers a bit of relief, though the tension in your chest doesn’t quite let up. You stand near the corner of the café, eyes scanning the street for any sign of him. The sound of footsteps approaches, and you turn, only to find Satoru strolling toward you with his usual carefree aura.

“Hey,” he greets, his tone light, but there’s something different about the way his eyes stay on you—something that feels almost too familiar. He holds out the jacket. “Koji’s jacket. Didn’t want to leave him without it.”

You take the jacket from him, the weight of it making you more aware of the subtle intimacy of the moment. “Thanks,” you say, trying to keep your voice steady. “I appreciate it.”

He doesn’t say anything immediately, just watches you for a beat too long. You shift on your feet, suddenly feeling acutely aware of the silence hanging between you.

“Is that all?” you ask, hoping the question doesn’t come off too abrupt.

Satoru tilts his head as if considering something. “What do you mean?”

God, you hate it when he plays stupid like this. It forces you to be outright with what you want to say. Standing up straighter, chin tilting high. “I mean…like—well I guess what I’m trying to say is that…did you open…the gift I gave you?”

Satoru’s gaze shifts slightly, his usual simmering confidence faltering just enough to make you second-guess yourself. He pauses like he’s weighing your question more carefully than he typically would. For a moment, you wonder if you’ve overstepped—if you’ve asked something too personal or too vulnerable. The silence stretches between you like a taut wire.

“Your gift?” he finally says, the corner of his mouth lifting just a bit. He sounds almost amused, but there’s a hint of something else in his voice, something you can’t quite pin down.

You feel a wave of heat rise in your cheeks, but you stand your ground. “Yeah. The one I gave you on Christmas.” The words feel clumsy as they leave your mouth, but you can’t take them back now.

Satoru’s expression shifts, the air tensing slightly. “I did,” he says simply, as though it’s nothing. “It was… nice.”

You want to push him further, to demand more of a response, but something about the way he says it makes you hesitate. Is that all? You want to ask again. Was it just “nice”? That’s all? After everything—the thought you put into the gift, the small but meaningful gesture—you wonder if maybe it didn’t even register with him the way it did with you. Maybe you were right, he didn’t even open it and is now coming up with a bullshit response because you put him on blast. 

But you don’t want to push too hard. You already feel like you’re treading on delicate ground. So you force yourself to smile, even though it feels a little stiff. “Well, I’m glad you liked it,” you reply, not entirely sure if you believe your own words.

There’s another beat of silence, and then Satoru shifts his weight slightly, signalling that he’s about to leave. “I should get going. Got some things to take care of,” he says, but he doesn’t immediately turn away.

Instead, his eyes flicker down to your hands, where you’re still holding Koji’s jacket. “Take care of yourself,” he adds, his tone softening just a bit.

You nod, trying to hide the strange pang in your chest. “You too,” you reply, though your voice is quieter now.

His lips thin into an awkward smile. It’s one you give a stranger or someone you barely know—but that’s how things feel between you now, isn’t it? It’s really not worth dwelling over the tiny things that further more prove the horrid line of connection between you two. But for some reason, it still hurts and picks at your heart. 

That moment is quickly splashed away when a familiar—but teeth-gritting voice squeals from behind Satoru. Your grip tightens on Koji’s jacket. Satoru’s shoulders tense up. 

“Satoru! Why’d you leave me in that boutique? It took forever to find you!”

She appears next to Satoru, her presence immediate and unmistakable. Her eyes flicker between you and Satoru with a mix of scrutiny and something else that you can’t quite place. She’s dressed in something designer, as usual, with that polished, effortless look that screams of wealth and status. Her gaze lingers on you for a moment longer than necessary, a quiet challenge in her eyes.

You feel a knot twist in your stomach, an all-too-familiar sense of discomfort settling into your chest. Satoru’s gaze meets yours for just a moment before he shifts his attention to Himari. “Sorry, didn’t mean to leave you hanging,” he says, his tone light but lacking its usual warmth.

Himari, not seeming to notice or care about the tension in the air, flashes you a tight-lipped smile that screams fake. “Oh, well look who it is. The leech.”

“Himari.” Satoru gruffs under his breath, giving his girlfriend a dirty side-eye. 

“What? One minute we're spending the day together and the next you’re here with…her.”

Your jaw clenches, noticing the tug Satoru gives the other woman to the back of her dress, lowly whispering something into her ear. But her facial expression doesn’t deter, and neither does her snaky persona. 

“I thought you had work.” You utter, eyes flickering back to Satoru. 

His brows tighten, huffing out an exasperated breath. Before he can respond, she does it for him. “If you consider being by my side and treating all my needs work, then yeah, he is working.” She giggles at her own joke, making a show of turning his head towards her and plopping a kiss on his pink lips. It lasts only a few seconds before he pulls away. 

But even those few seconds feel like a lifetime.

You feel the bite of Himari’s words, even if they’re clearly meant to dig into you. The word “leech” still stings, even though you know it’s not intended for anything other than a cruel jab. Satoru’s response, or lack thereof, makes the situation all the more uncomfortable. His eyes flick to you for a brief second before turning back to Himari, his expression more quiet and guarded

 One question sounds throughout your brain. Why are you even with her?

You stand there, the tension heavy in the air between the three of you, white-knuckling onto Koji’s jacket, as if it could anchor you through this awkward, uncomfortable moment. Himari’s gaze holds yours for a moment longer like she’s trying to read you, trying to see if you'll react. You want to say something, anything, but you can feel the weight of the situation hanging on your tongue, making it hard to even speak.

Satoru looks between the two of you, his jaw tightening slightly. "Let's go," he mutters, more to Himari than to you, though you can tell he’s trying to smooth things over. Himari, however, isn’t having it. She steps forward, a small smirk on her face as she eyes you again. 

“So,” she starts, her voice dripping with sarcasm, “you two still playing catch-up or is it ‘out of sight, out of mind’ now?” 

Her clipped tone is pointed, deliberately meant to prod, and the weight of them sinks in—her intent clear. Satoru doesn’t reply, simply glancing at you with a silent apology in his eyes—if you can even call it that. You want to scoff at his lousiness. It’s clear she’s trying to assert her dominance in the situation, but you’re not sure whether it’s her trying to put you in your place or if it’s something else entirely.

You force a tight smile, the words you're looking for escaping you. “No need to worry,” you manage to say, the words barely leaving your lips as you turn to look at Satoru one last time. “I’m sure you both have things to do. I’ll get back to work.”

Satoru doesn’t protest, and Himari just gives you another dismissive glance. "Whatever," she mutters under her breath, but you catch the taunt in her voice. She might be playing it off, but you sense otherwise. 

As they walk away, the weight of the encounter lingers in the air around you. You stand frozen for a moment, the jacket still in your hands, and then—almost instinctively—you turn on your heel and head back inside the café. Your heart still pounds in your chest, the sting of Himari’s words lingering long after they’ve both left.

You don’t even know what hurts more—the fact that Satoru’s dismissive attitude didn’t change, Himari’s words somehow managed to rattle you more than you care to admit, or the fact that he barely…stood up for you. It is selfish to at least hold him to a certain degree—a degree where he has the decency to protect you from the cruel shit his now girlfriend so nonchalantly delivers towards you? Maybe how he acted during that first unexpected encounter was all for show.

And of course, the pain in your chest feels more like a slow burn now, another brutal—unwanted reminder that things between you and Satoru, whatever they were…are long gone.

An Izakaya of this caliber is something Haruka would have only dreamed of sitting in. Warm lighting is stationed above them, inside their own private room while she drinks away and away—solely because the people before her are buying. There are dishes of food scattered around, some picked from and others haven’t been touched yet. “You know, I really appreciate you spoiling me for the past two days, it’s nicer than any man has ever treated me.” 

She laughs to herself, casually leaning back on her palms, holding her pitcher of beer back up to her lips and sipping like a madman. Emi and Kenji Nakamura regard the woman with equally disgusted faces. Beside them is their personal lawyer. 

“So,” Haruka starts, burping and leaning forward once more. “What’s this all about my precious daughter, huh?” Her lip quirks up in a sneer at the reminder of the child she had and practically threw to the wolves. “Is she acting up again? She’s always been a little troublemaker.”

“I’m sure you’ve seen the articles, yes?” Kenji’s firm voice replies. “Involving your daughter, Satoru Gojo, and their son.”

She chokes on her spit. “What?! Son?! No, I haven’t seen anything! I’m a free spirit and I don’t believe in social media, it’s the devil’s play!”

The couple show no further emotion to her outburst. 

Haruka’s face contorts with an expression of disbelief as she wipes her mouth hastily with the back of her hand, trying to regain some composure. The news about Satoru Gojo and her daughter having a child seems to rattle her more than anything else. She leans back again, almost toppling over from the force of her sudden shift in posture, eyes wild. “I—what do you mean, son?” Her voice cracks, and she shoots a glance at Emi and Kenji, her eyes narrowing. “Are you telling me that boy… and my daughter? They have a child?!”

Kenji’s lips curl into a slight frown, his eyes cold. “Yes, it seems your daughter has kept things a secret for years. The media and everyone else have only just found out.”

Haruka’s eyes flash with something venomous, but she quickly masks it with a laugh, the sound forced and hollow. “Ah, what a little dirty sneak. And, please. You know I’m not interested in all that family nonsense. And that son? How could they even think of bringing a kid into their… situation?” Her head shakes as she scoffs at the thought of you bearing a child of your own. And especially with…him. 

“You may not understand now,” Kenji mutters darkly, before leaning in slightly. “But I think it’s time you start paying attention. Because this situation concerns you more than you realize.”

Haruka’s face twitches, the words hitting her harder than she wants to admit. The weight of the sudden revelation was heavy. She glances down at her beer, swirling it absentmindedly, her mind clearly racing with thoughts she doesn’t want to process. “You’re telling me my daughter has a son with him?” she scoffs, shaking her head. “That’s rich. Really rich.” Her tone is bitter, but the realization of the reality around her seems to slowly sink in, and she takes another long sip from her pitcher to steady herself. “She’s such a goddamn fool, I almost feel bad for her. I provided a lot for her, you know? Then she threw it all away.”

Kenji and Emi watch on in disinterest. The lawyer beside them brings out a formal sheet of paper. “We’d like to offer you a deal, Ms. L/N,” Kenji states. 

Haruka looks back up, eyebrows furrowing in confusion. Haruka’s eyes narrow, expression shifting from one of indifference to one of calculated curiosity. She shifts in place, wiping her mouth once more with the back of her palm. “A deal? What kind of deal?” she asks, her voice carrying a note of skepticism, but there's a flicker of interest behind her gaze. She leans in slightly, one hand still gripping the pitcher of beer as she lowers it to the table now.

“You see,” Emi starts. “Our only child—our precious daughter is dating Satoru. She probably felt the most disgruntled in this situation out of everyone else. With the suddenness, we fear that everything we have worked for will be put to waste.”

“And with the news of your daughter’s involvement with Satoru Gojo, it has thrown things into disarray for us. What we need is to ensure that this situation doesn’t jeopardize our family’s legacy—both our reputation and, more importantly, our fortune.” Kenji finishes. 

Haruka snorts softly. “I see. So, you’re telling me this little bastard of hers is a problem for you too? What does that have to do with me?” Her words come out sharper than she intends, but she quickly masks it with another bitter laugh.

Emi’s cold gaze sharpens, a glint of something unspoken flickering behind her eyes. “Everything, Haruka. Your daughter’s ties to Satoru Gojo are a direct threat to the family’s interests. And with a child in the picture now… it complicates things further. But we’ve come to a solution, one that involves you—if you’re willing to cooperate.”

Haruka tilts her head, eyes narrowing as she watches the lawyer slide the formal paper across the table toward her. The ink on it is neat, but her eyes flick over it quickly, scanning the contents before she lets out a quiet scoff. “What is this? Some kind of bribe?”

The lawyer, keeping a neutral expression, nods. “It’s an agreement that ensures your cooperation in smoothing over this… situation. If you agree, your involvement will not only secure your own future, but it will also protect the financial interests of both families. In exchange, you’ll receive a position of influence, a stake in the inheritance.”

Haruka’s laughter rings out again, more amused. “Influence? A stake? Do you think I’m some desperate fool who’ll fall for your little schemes? I don’t need your money. I have enough desperate fools willing to give me that already.” She sneers at the paper but then pauses, looking at Kenji and Emi, the weight of their gaze pressing down on her.

She takes another sip from her pitcher, her mind whirling as she weighs her options. A part of her wants to lash out, to dismiss them and their offer completely. But there’s something about the way they’re looking at her, something cold and calculating that makes her pause. The truth is, she’s always been a gambler, and she knows when to fold and when to play her hand. “You really think this is gonna work out?” she says, her voice quieter now, but still filled with an edge of disbelief. “This… deal?” She hesitates, eyes flicking over the paper again, the signature line staring her down. “What exactly are you asking of me?”

Emi leans forward slightly, her posture unyielding. “We need you to leverage your relationship with your daughter. Influence her decisions, guide her actions—anything you can to help steer her away from Satoru. We want to ensure that the child and his existence don’t affect our plans. In return, we offer you protection, money, and a place at the table. It’s a mutually beneficial arrangement.”

Kenji watches her closely, his expression hard, but there’s a glimmer of expectation in his eyes.

Haruka’s mind races, her fingers idly tracing the rim of her beer glass as she processes the offer laid out before her. The temptation of power, of influence, is hard to ignore, even for someone who prides herself on being a free spirit. But she’s also no fool. She knows this is a high-stakes game—one where the risks outweigh the rewards if she misplays her cards. And the amount of 0’s she’s staring down at is inexplicably thrilling. She’s already imagining what she can buy with it. 

For a long moment, the room is silent, the tension thick. Emi and Kenji both stare at her intently, their eyes cold and calculating, watching her every move. The lawyer remains as neutral as ever, the formality of his expression only adding to the weight of the situation.

Haruka's lips curl into a smirk, the edges of her mouth twitching slightly as she leans back in her chair. “Leverage my relationship with my daughter, huh? You really think I can do that?” Her voice is laced with a mix of amusement and disdain. “You must think I’m a puppet master or something. But I’m not interested in some petty manipulation games.”

Kenji’s eyes flash for a brief second, a flicker of something darker crossing his features. "You know the consequences of doing nothing. You’ve been avoiding your daughter long enough, Haruka. But she’s not the same girl anymore. She's tied to Satoru Gojo now, and that complicates things. We need you to make sure she doesn’t forget her place. The family’s future is on the line."

Haruka’s hand freezes in mid-air, her gaze locking with Kenji's. She can feel the weight of her daughter’s past mistakes bearing down on her, the consequences that could affect everything she’s tried to distance herself from. Her jaw ticks, her eye twitching. What a stupid little girl, I tried warning you, didn’t I? “I don’t care about your legacy or your fortune,” Haruka mutters, her tone turning colder, sharper. “But I’m not stupid. I can see what you’re offering me.” Her fingers curl around the edges of the paper, her nails digging into the surface. “I have one question for you, though. What happens if I refuse?”

Emi doesn’t blink, her gaze unflinching as she answers. “If you refuse, Haruka, you’ll be left in the same position you’ve always been—irrelevant. Your daughter’s problems will escalate, and your connections, your influence, will be stay meaningless. You will never succeed and you’ll lose the tiniest amount of leverage you have. You’ll watch as everything you’ve ever taken for granted crumbles.” She pauses, the words hanging in the air. “But if you cooperate, we can guarantee your future. Your daughter’s involvement with Gojo doesn’t need to ruin you.”

Haruka’s eyes flick over the paper again, the signature line now feeling like an anchor, pulling her down into a world of obligations and consequences. She takes a deep breath, feeling the familiar rush of excitement that always comes when she’s faced with a gamble. It’s the thrill of uncertainty, the pull of what could be hers if she plays her cards right. Her bottom lip is worried between her teeth. 

“So, what you’re saying is... I’m supposed to ruin my own daughter’s happiness for the sake of your precious family’s legacy,” Haruka says, her voice low, almost contemplative. She stares at the paper one more time before meeting Emi’s gaze. "Fine. You’ve made your offer. But just so you know, I’m no one's pawn. I’ll make this work for me too. You’re not the only ones with something to gain."

Emi gives a small, satisfied nod, and Kenji’s lips tighten, but there’s a small shift in his demeanor—one that signals the deal has been struck. "Good," Kenji replies, his voice firm. "We’re glad we could come to an agreement. We will contact you if necessary and when your action is needed.”

Haruka, for the first time, sets the pitcher of beer down, her fingers now gently grasping the edge of the paper. She grins maniacally and signs it with a flourish. The ink is dark and permanent, sealing the agreement.

With the ink dry, she sits back, a smirk curling on her lips. “This will be fun.”

taglist is now closed

taglist: @celestialforce @theclassbookworm @tbzzluvr @uhenivid @ofkilljoysandslytherins

@sadmonke @bunheadusa @shartnart1 @lady-of-blossoms @itsinherited

@duooy @ari-sa @dakotali @mew4-ever18 @iv-vee

@devils-blackrose @a-girl-with-thoughts @bitchycloudstrawberry @tiffyisme3760 @iheartshopping

@chiara-hotel @uriahs-barn @celloccino @roronoazorosbxtchh @pseudophyllus

@ratedrrrr @m1gota @tojideckmuncher @yigaclvn @sukunaslve

@eiizabeth-torres @cherrythiccums0 @satorustorm @zoeyflower @username23345

@i0313z @gourdlorddgubes @partypoison00 @quinnyundertow @sorilyae

@redzscare @aldebrana @nycmagi @s4ikooo1 @dreaming-lis @gigiiiiislife

@boothillglazer @miss-dior @miakxn @rjreins

[cjlouwho]

Tommy gets wrongfully accused of killing his father and is sent to prison. At first, everyone is on his side but eventually the evidence kinda piles up and Buck is the only one still convinced it wasn’t him.

The guilty verdict comes back in less than four hours and he’s led away. Buck can only come visit on the weekend because it’s a three hour drive but he adjusts his schedule to make sure he can go every single weekend.

He spends all his free time working on the case. Long after it’s been considered closed, he goes over it with a fine tooth comb looking for anything he can find. He gets little bits and pieces here and there but it’s not enough and he needs help.

This continues for 3 years. Three years of visits where Tommy slowly becomes more withdrawn. Buck says they should get married. They can have conjugal visits and also have more privacy to discuss the case. That’s when Tommy tells him to stop. Stop working the case and please let it go. Buck agrees- for him- but doesn’t stop.

Another two years of visits goes by. Sometimes Tommy comes out, sometimes he doesn’t. Until he asks Buck to stop coming altogether. Please move on and let him go and go live his life.

Buck still comes. Tommy denies every single visit but Buck doesn’t stop.

So Buck quits his job. He moves closer to Tommy. He finds a detective who- finally- agrees that Tommy is innocent. They just have to get definitive proof. This detective (we’ll call him Roy) and his wife ends up letting Buck move in with them after a year, so he doesn’t spend his life savings on his rental. Buck does side jobs, like doordash, to pay them rent for the room. They spend all their time working the case.

Four more years go by before they get the break they need. Tommy had just left from a terrible visit with his dad and was thought to be the last to see him alive. Except one of his dad’s “friends” who he owed money stopped by for a visit afterward. Because Kinard didn’t have the money, in a fit of rage, the man killed him. He knew Tommy had been there and used that to his advantage.

His mistake was becoming an old drunk who couldn’t keep his mouth shut when Buck wore a wire and talked to him one night.

Six months later, when Tommy is officially released, Buck is standing there, waiting for him outside the doors. Roy and his wife are there too, standing back and watching them reconnect.

Tommy stops dead in his tracks at first. Stares at Buck with an unreadable expression. And then practically falls into his arms. They’re both crying, can’t stop, while Tommy just repeats, “Evan, Evan, Evan,” over and over again.

[cheeksofstars]

spellbound. ೨ৎ e. x reader

𐙚˚ ekko x fem!reader. fluff. 0.8k words.

✦ ekko had always been good at multitasking. he had to be, considering his role as the leader of the firelights and the countless things that demanded his attention. but whenever you started talking, it was like the rest of the world faded into the background.

it didn’t matter if you were telling a story, explaining a plan, or simply rambling about something that had caught your attention—ekko couldn’t help himself. his eyes would lock onto you, his head tilting slightly as he leaned closer, soaking up every word you said like it was the most important thing in the world.

and of course, today was no different.

you were sitting across from him in the firelights’ hideout, animatedly discussing an idea you had about improving their communication system. your hands moved as you spoke, drawing invisible diagrams in the air, and your voice was filled with that infectious enthusiasm that ekko adored.

he had started the conversation by tinkering with one of his gadgets, but at some point, the screwdriver in his hand had been forgotten. now, he was just… watching you.

the way your eyes lit up when you got excited, the slight furrow of your brow when you were concentrating, the way your lips curved when you smiled—it was all utterly captivating.

“ekko? are you even listening?”

your voice snapped him out of his trance. he blinked, realizing too late that he’d been staring.

“uh, yeah!” he said quickly, though the faint blush creeping up his neck gave him away.

you narrowed your eyes at him, a teasing smile tugging at your lips. “really? then what did i just say?”  

“something about, uh…” he scratched the back of his neck, trying, and failing, to come up with an answer. “you know, communication… stuff?”

you couldn’t help but laugh, shaking your head. “wow. i pour my heart into this idea, and you’re just sitting there zoning out.”

“i wasn’t zoning out!” he protested, his cheeks burning now. “i was… focused."

“on what, exactly?”

he hesitated, his gaze dropping to the table for a moment before meeting yours again. “on you.”

that caught you off guard. your teasing smile faltered, replaced by a softer expression. “oh.”

ekko rubbed the back of his neck again, his usual confidence faltering under your gaze. “i mean, you’re just… really easy to listen to. i like the way you talk, the way you explain things. it’s… nice.”

a warm blush spread across your cheeks, and you looked away, suddenly shy under his intense gaze. “well… thanks, i guess.”

the two of you sat in silence for a moment, the air between you charged with unspoken emotions. then, ekko cleared his throat, breaking the tension.

“so, uh… communication system, huh? tell me more about it.”

you smiled, the warmth in his voice giving you the confidence to continue. and this time, when you started talking, you noticed the way ekko’s eyes stayed on you—soft, attentive, and completely captivated.

as you continued talking, a newfound shyness crept into your words. you tried to keep your focus on the communication system idea, but ekko’s unwavering attention made it difficult. his eyes didn’t just watch you; they studied you, memorized you, as if you were the only thing worth focusing on in the room.

eventually, you paused, rubbing the back of your neck. “okay, now you’re making it hard to think.”

ekko grinned, leaning back in his chair with a boyish charm that made your heart skip a beat. “why’s that?”

“because you’re staring at me like i’m some kind of science experiment,” you teased, trying to regain your composure.

“not an experiment,” he replied smoothly, his grin softening into something more genuine. “more like… art.”

your face warmed, and you let out a nervous laugh. “you’re terrible at this, you know that?”

“at what?”

“at flirting.”

that earned a laugh from him, and for a moment, the tension dissolved into something lighter. ekko leaned forward, resting his arms on the table between you. “okay, maybe i’m not great at it. but i’m serious about this.”

“serious about what?” you asked, your voice quieter now.

“you,” he said simply, his tone steady and earnest. “you’ve always been amazing, but every time you talk, every time you get excited about something... i feel like i’m seeing you all over again. and i can’t stop looking. it’s a problem.”

his words hung in the air, your heart pounding in your chest as you searched his face for any sign that he might be joking. but there was nothing but honesty in his eyes.

“what're you going to do about it?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

ekko smirked, leaning just a little closer. “i don’t know. maybe i’ll keep staring. unless you want to stop me.”

you shook your head, a small smile creeping onto your lips. “i don’t think i want to stop you.”

and in that moment, the noise of the hideout faded away, leaving just the two of you. ekko didn’t need to say anything more—his eyes, his smile, the way he looked at you like you were his entire world—said everything he couldn’t put into words.

[liondrakes]

To add on with personal insight: I first awakened when I was in middle school, but shied away from embracing who I am out of fear. I didn’t come around to embracing myself until I turned twenty.

I don’t think it’s a matter of the experience being too “deep” or “serious” for children. Hell, some adults (therian or otherwise) don’t even see their identity as an overly profound experience. It’s their life. End of.

It’s a matter of belonging that needs to be taken into account. People can experience that at any age. Children spend a lot of time contemplating about who they are and where they belong, so it makes sense why such a vast influx of them flock to this community through a very popular outlet… even if said outlet tends to spread a lot of contradicting, and sometimes incorrect, information.

I would know because I did the same thing years ago. If I were to apply any of this to myself, I wouldn’t be considered a “real” therian, or alterhuman in general, back then because I learned about the otherkin community through Vine when I was thirteen. From there, I sat with the possibility of having this experience. I ruled out that I likely did, but I didn’t announce myself as a member of either community as mentioned before. I shut it out for a while. This decision was made out of concern of being judged by the spaces I already found myself in.

On one hand, can I understand the frustration with young, misinformed therians on TikTok? Yes, especially when they try to recirculate outdated definitions and discourses. Nobody is obligated to educate them, though I personally encourage it if you want rampant misinformation to cease.

On the other hand, I don’t think their behavior disproves their therianthropy. They still have a lot to learn about themselves and their community. Even if they’re the kind who insists that they’re not an animal, they should at least be directed to terms in the community that help describe what they experience (ex: synpath, otherhearted, otherpaw). They’re trailing behind, but they’ll find their way.

Furthermore, some of what they say (such as claiming therianthropy “isn’t” identifying as an animal) is likely a means to prevent the judgement and lack of belonging that they fret over. The “Oh, well, I’m not really…” response reads as a defense to me. I’m aware that there’s kids who genuinely don’t know therianthropy inherently means being an animal, but this is also the same generation with unfettered access to the internet. If they wanted to know beyond TikTok, they’d know. These kids could be putting up walls to turn away folks who’ll subject them to harassment for even daring to step outside of what they consider “normal”.

By no means am I saying they’re allowed to dilute the label because of this. No one would should go out of their way in making themselves palatable to assholes. I say this to shed light on how they might be feeling and why they assert these claims, despite said claims about therianthropy being wrong.

Children, especially teenagers, are very cautious about how they are perceived. It’s not that they can’t comprehend having an identity like this. It could be a huge thing for them to understand, but I don’t think we should blanket it as that alone. That has never worked out for any community, regardless of the label and its context (as discussed by Paleo).

Many of these children are clinging onto the belonging they feel amongst us. Despite having to brace for anti-therian/kin bullying, and doing so in a very backwards way, they still conduct themselves as members of this community.

Some of them may not continue to identify as therians in the future. This happens with adults too. It’s not a child-exclusive circumstance. Even if it was, then so be it. Life happens. You explore. You make discoveries. Whether or not those experiences remain a part of you is something that only time can tell.

Some of them also have the possibility of staying within this community. They have the capacity to keep learning from and engaging with their peers. I embraced my alterhumanity as an adult, but I still had much to learn. I wasn’t thirteen anymore. The community I familiarized myself with had long changed, so I had to catch up with everything.

I just don’t think the original post is a fair approach to younger members of our community. They have ample room to grow. I’m not saying older members should hand-hold them through everything, but we as adults have the experience to know that kids aren’t devoid of their own complexities when it comes to identity. We were all kids once. Our circumstances may not be the same, but we must ask ourselves: “Would l say the same thing about myself when I was fourteen?”

Better yet: “Would I say this about anyone who was misinformed about our community but still felt like they belong here?”

You can feel however you wish about their lack of understanding, but that lack of understanding doesn’t define them as people. If that were the case, anyone who questioned an identity and didn’t figure out all the details would be put in the hot seat.

Don't bash me in for saying this..but I don't consider anyone 14 or under who especially has tiktok to really be a therian.

They're more than likley gonna grow out of it. I'm not hating them for saying they are a therian but most people that young don't even know the meaning and seriousness of the identity.

[thewizardingpost]

A Game of Quidditch… and Confessions 

James Potter x f!reader

summary ⌇ you’ve been acting distant lately, and James notices. As he grows concerned, you try to hide the truth: you secretly tried out for the Slytherin Quidditch team, afraid that if he finds out, he’ll think you’re putting yourself in danger and try to talk you out of it.

warnings ⌇word count  1.4k, established relationship, misunderstanding, argument, hurt/comfort, slytherin reader, mentions/discussions of injuries/death, fluff, happy ending 

Rough game, Quidditch. You definitely know as the girlfriend of James Potter, known chaser (and occasional seeker) having watched so many of his games from the sidelines. It’s dangerous, but maybe that’s why it piques your interest so much. Maybe that’s what brought you to sign up for the Slytherin Quidditch team. 

This decision, however, was not brought to James’ attention. He should know. You told your closest friend and family, but not him. You’ve tried to tell him. There have been moments where it’s just been the two of you–perfection placements in time to share the news. The news that up until you’ve been alone with him has been so exciting. You freeze up, your heart stuttering in your chest when the words come so close to being spoken to him. The anxiety would crawl so far up your through it deem it better not to tell him.

From that came a new persona out of you. You could not stay too long in his presence, the guilt eating away internally. The guilt was a nasty little voice inside your mind speaking poison like how could you not tell him? You’ve always been so honest with each other, and now you’re breaking that trust. You’re going to break his trust. He’s going to be so mad when he finds out. 

These thoughts damned your mood. That playful smile and spark in your eyes dimmed, and he noticed because of course he did. 

He’s tried to console you in many ways. A hand on your thigh in the dining hall, looking at you with a concerned look throughout the day, and of course–communicating with you. He’s tried to, one night after walking back with you from Hogsmede. The path had been light with the moon overhead, a gentle breeze that blew the trees that surrounded you. Hogwarts was in the distance, lit up and reflecting off of the lake below. 

"Alright there, love? You’ve got that look on your face.”

You looked at him, slightly panicked, “whatever do you mean?”

“You don’t seem like yourself, are you doing alright? I'm concerned.”

Your response that night had been a lie, denying his concern and yet again letting him know that you’re “fine.” 

The truth came to light in an almost wicked way. You were sitting at the Gryffindor table in the dining hall around three in the evening. James and a few other friends were beside you as well, catching up. Your owl had made an appearance, flying to you and dropping what looked to be a broom shaped package. Not the usual time to receive mail, but it seems to be a personal delivery. You took the note that’s on the side of the broom, reading it. 

It was a confirmation letter, you made the team. 

James leans over your shoulder, “what’s that, lovely?”

Your sudden jerk to the other side caught him by surprise, the interest on his face morphing into confusion and a flicker of hurt. "Hey, what’s going on?" he asks, his voice softer now, as if sensing something is off.

Your friend, unaware that you’ve been trying so hard to hide it from James, exclaims, “I believe this lady just made it into the Slytherin Quidditch team!”

His expression changes quickly, a mix of shock and disbelief flashing across his face. “You’ve… what?” His voice is almost a whisper, as if he’s trying to process the words.

"You didn’t tell me," he continues, his tone softer but tinged with hurt. "You’ve been hiding this from me?" The words sting more than you expected, and the tension in the air grows heavy.

He’s not angry, but you can see the disappointment flicker in his eyes — a look you’d been dreading. You could tell he was struggling with whether to be mad or just confused, hurt that you hadn’t shared something so big with him. You open your mouth to explain, but the words feel stuck, like you’re trapped in the weight of your own secret.

“Oh James, I—”

You freeze on your words again, not knowing what to say–but also feeling quite embarrassed to have such a conversation around others. With a tug on his arm, you pull him behind you–off towards somewhere more secluded. You’re halfway up to the clock, stopping in the stairwell. 

“Talk to me,” he starts, crossing his arms, “Explain it to me. Why have you been lying to me?”

His eyes are locked on yours, his expression a mix of confusion and hurt. He crosses his arms, but there's a tension in his shoulders — like he's trying to hold himself back from getting upset.

You swallow, trying to steady your nerves. “James, I— I didn’t want to upset you.” The words feel like they're coming out too quickly, but it's hard to explain everything all at once.

James's jaw tightens slightly, and his voice lowers, the frustration creeping in. “Upset me? You think I’d be upset because you made the Slytherin Quidditch team? You’re right, I don’t get it. But hiding it from me? That doesn’t make sense.”

He takes a step toward you, his gaze hardening, but the anger is controlled — cool, like he’s struggling to keep his calm. “Why not just tell me? You don’t think I could handle it?” His voice cracks just a bit with that question, revealing the hurt beneath.

You flinch slightly at the bite in his tone, your heart sinking. The last thing you wanted was for him to be upset with you.

“I—I didn’t want you to think I was doing something stupid,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper. “I didn’t want you to think I was putting myself in danger. You know how I feel about Quidditch, and Slytherin and Gryffindor, it’s complicated. I just thought you’d get mad.”

James looks like he’s about to say something else, but then he sees the way your shoulders slump, the way you avoid looking directly at him. His eyes soften a little, and the anger that had been simmering cools into something else—concern.

He exhales, a long breath, and runs a hand through his hair, his expression softening. He steps closer, his voice gentler now. “I’m not mad. I just–I didn’t know, and that stings a bit.”

You meet his gaze then, the weight of his words finally sinking in. The anger is gone, replaced with the warmth and tenderness that’s always been there when he’s truly listening.

He gives you a small, reassuring smile, his tone quieter. “You should’ve told me, though. You didn’t need to hide this from me.”

"I'm not always some confident person with those I care so much about," you admit, feeling the vulnerability slip out. "I have insecurities, thoughts that spiral, James. I got scared. I thought maybe you'd think I was reckless or that you'd get angry. I didn’t want to lose you over something like this."

James looks at you for a long moment, his brow furrowed in thought. Then, he steps forward again, gently cupping your face with his hands. His voice is low, soft. "I won’t pull away from you. You’re everything to me. But I’m always going to worry when you put yourself in danger. That’s just me being me, and I’m not going to apologize for it."

You nod slowly, a lump forming in your throat as you lean into his touch. "I’m sorry for hiding it. I shouldn’t have kept it from you."

"Don’t apologize," he murmurs, shaking his head, his thumb brushing over your cheek. "Just next time, talk to me. I can handle it. You don't have to carry everything alone, okay?"

You look up at him, the tension easing between you, and for the first time in what felt like forever, you feel lighter. He pulls you into a hug, his arms wrapping around you with the comfort you were craving.

“I love you, you know that, right?” he says quietly against your hair.

You smile softly, breathing him in. “I love you too, James.”

[robynhoodwrites]

˚｡❆ Rivals to Lovers ˚｡❆

Request: "Can I request a rivals to lovers fic (with smut if you will) about Zayne and MC where they live in a normal world, and they're both in med school?"

This will be written from the reader (aka the MC's) point of view. The MC will be AFAB, but will be referred to with they/them pronouns.

Minors DNI! This writing contains the following: smut, vaginal penetration, medical discussions, blood (in a medical setting), rivals to lovers, semi-public sex, vaginal fingering, cunnilingus, fellatio, switch!Zayne and switch!reader.

My heels clack loudly against the clean, tiled floors of the hospital. The sound echoes down the hallway, and I cringe internally at the fact that I’m practically announcing my presence. I hear a yawn sound from one of the receptionists behind me, hoping that the coffee now coursing through me is enough to keep me awake.

“Morning!” One of the nurses, Tara, smiles at me. She stops where she’s walking, seemingly trying to start a conversation.

“I’m so sorry, I don’t have time right now!” I breathe, my heart pounding as I pick up the pace. She frowns slightly, her chest deflating. “We can meet for lunch later! Promise!” I yell behind me, and she just laughs and continues walking to where she’s going.

This meeting isn’t necessarily important, but I haven’t earned the title “overachiever” for nothing. If I make it earlier than everyone else, it shows initiative. And initiative means I’m better than the others, which means I get the internship, which means I get a good job in the future, which means-

I’m almost at the door when I notice Zayne across the hallway. We had been in the same medical program for the last year, but only recently has he become such a pain in my ass. It seemed like no matter what grade I got, he matched it (or, God forbid, his was higher). It had become somewhat of an unspoken competition between us to see who would end up on top.

He seems to notice me, his eyes meeting mine from the other side of the hall. He looks at the door and then back at me before speeding up, his eyes now sporting a determined glare. I do the same, the clacking of my heels reaching insane speeds.

Even with the newfound speed, I am nowhere as fast as Zayne. Screw these stupid heels and Zayne’s long ass legs. I’m right behind him when he throws open the door, letting it start to close behind him as he enters the conference room before me.

“Wow, what a gentleman,” I mutter, and he seems to hear me, chuckling to himself.

“Zayne, nice to see you here bright and early,” our boss, Dr. Jenna says. Her eyes then flick to me, smiling. “Oh, and good to see you here early, too. You two have some real initiative.”

I silently thank the universe that coming in second has not put a blot on my record. It’s then that Zayne puts down his backpack, producing a coffee from the cupholder sewn to the side of it. “You like the cold brew, right?” he asks, handing her the coffee.

“Aw, Zayne, you shouldn’t have!” Jenna smiles, grabbing the drink from his hand and taking a sip with a content look on her face. Fuck, that’s genius. Why didn’t I think of that?

“Of course, Doctor Jenna. I cannot imagine how tired you must be, considering the fact that you’re working and taking the time to teach us. I don’t know how you do it,” Zayne gushes, and Jenna just smiles wider and thanks him before going back to writing on the whiteboard.

Zayne turns back to where I am standing, a stupid smirk lining his face. He sticks up two hands, one making the shape of a “zero” and the other creating a “one”.

Zayne: 1. Me: 0.

He winks as he goes to sit in his spot in the front row. Other students finally begin filing in, and I rush to take my spot in the front next to Zayne. “Really laying it on thick, huh?” I mutter, and he chuckles again.

“Maybe if you did the same, you wouldn’t be losing,” he whispers back, reclining in his chair nonchalantly.

“I don’t need to kiss ass. My superior doctoring skills will get me that internship,” I tease, mockingly reclining like him. He shows no sign that he’s noticed, instead deciding to unpack his notebook and pencil from his backpack.

“The points are saying otherwise,” he responds, opening his notebook to a fresh page. He writes down our names at the top of the page, putting a tally mark next to his own.

“That’s what this is to you? A game?” I ask, huffing out a breath of frustration. “There are 5 spots for the internship. We can both get it! There’s no need to fight me for it.” I am thoroughly enjoying the competition, but it’s not as fun when I’m the one that’s losing.

“I am not going to settle for mediocrity. I want to get chosen for the internship not just because she wants me there, but because she needs me there,” he tells me, stating it like it’s a fact. I suppose I understand that, but I am never going to let him hear me admit that.

“Where did this vanity come from, Zayne? I swear, you seemed so docile when I met you last year,” I tease. Rather than answer me, he looks down at the paper in front of him. “Or do you only act vain when you’re threatened? Am I a threat to you, Zayne?”

He doesn't respond. In fact, he acts like he hasn't heard me. Instead, he sticks out his hand, seeming to be asking for a handshake. “May the best doctor win,” he says confidently, and I grasp his hand firmly. It’s strangely warm, his long fingers holding my own tightly.

“I will,” I say back, letting go of his hand and turning to face the board. Before he can say something in retaliation, Doctor Jenna clears her throat and the class goes silent.

⋆ ˚｡❆˚⋆ ˚｡❆˚⋆ ˚｡❆˚⋆ ˚｡❆˚⋆ ˚｡❆˚ ⋆ ˚｡❆˚⋆ ˚｡❆˚⋆ ˚｡❆˚⋆ ˚｡❆˚⋆｡

By the last 10 minutes of class, I’ve nearly filled three pages with notes, front and back. The notes are nowhere near clean or pretty looking, but they’ll work for when I’m studying later. Dr. Jenna has started reviewing some of the information from the last class, which means I can zone out for a moment and let my brain take a break.

I spin my pen in my fingers, my eyes blurred as I think about absolutely nothing for the first time in a while. The peace doesn’t last, though. I hear a small rustle in front of me and look down to see a folded sheet of notebook paper.

I turn to look at Zayne, the most likely suspect. However, he’s looking straight ahead at the board in a focused manner, his eyes not meeting mine. I look back down at the paper curiously, finally relenting and unfolding it in front of me.

The paper has a messy stick figure drawing on the top, showing a tall man with dark hair and glasses holding a trophy. It’s nowhere near artist quality, but something about it makes me chuckle. I glance over at Zayne, who can’t help the smile now spreading across his face.

I click open my pen, drawing my own stick figure masterpiece under his. I surround his drawing with a thought bubble before drawing a picture of Zayne sleeping soundly underneath. Under his sleeping stick figure, I write “In your dreams!” before folding the paper neatly and handing it back to him.

He hesitates for a moment, waiting until Jenna’s back is turned before carefully unfolding the drawing. He snorts, covering his mouth with his hand quickly. I just keep looking forward at the whiteboard, listening to him hastily scribble on the paper before sliding it back to me.

I roll my eyes, unfolding the paper yet again. Zayne’s familiar, neat writing lines the page underneath my drawing. “You’re one to talk about dreams. What are you daydreaming about over there while Dr. Jenna teaches?”

He noticed that?  I feel a weird flutter in my chest, but I push it down as I write my own message underneath his. “Just plotting my victory,” I write, checking to make sure Jenna’s back is turned before handing it to him.

A moment passes before the note lands back on my desk, the paper filled with more of Zayne’s neat, looping letters. “If you spend all class thinking about how to beat me, you’ll never pass your tests.”

I write back quickly, my messy scrawl in stark contrast to Zayne’s clear writing. “And if you spend all class staring at me, you’ll never get the internship.” I pass the note back to Zayne, keeping my eyes glued to the board as he takes in a sharp breath. He hesitates, slowly writing his next response before going to pass it back to me.

“Zayne, no passing notes in class. Put it away,” Jenna snaps, and I see Zayne’s face go pale. He crumples up the note, throwing it into his backpack. He mutters an apology under his breath, his pale face now growing a deep shade of red.

“Yeah, Zayne, I’m trying to learn,” I say, loud enough for Jenna to hear. She nods, throwing Zayne another sharp look before turning back to the board. Zayne shoots me a glare, his jaw clenched in annoyance. I wink at him, before shooting a quick glance at the board to see if Jenna is looking.

When her back is turned, I lean in closer to him, delighting in the quick breath he sucks in. I bring my pen to the top of his paper, adding a point under my name. “One to one,” I whisper, before leaning back and letting my focus return to the board.

⋆ ˚｡❆˚⋆ ˚｡❆˚⋆ ˚｡❆˚⋆ ˚｡❆˚⋆ ˚｡❆˚ ⋆ ˚｡❆˚⋆ ˚｡❆˚⋆ ˚｡❆˚⋆ ˚｡❆˚⋆｡

I yawn as I put some quarters into the vending machine, watching as it shoots an energy drink down towards the bottom. I grab it, quickly opening it and gulping down as much as I can. It was nearly the end of my shift, and a long day of shadowing doctors has left an ache in my feet and a pain in my back. I can’t wait to go home and sleep…

“Hey,” I hear a familiar voice say from behind me, and I turn to see Zayne standing impatiently behind me. I gulp, pulling the energy drink away from my mouth and thinking of what to say to the intimidating man in front of me.

 In class, he is just like any other student. But, when working in the clinic, he’s… different. His lab coat perfectly frames his tall figure, his glasses sitting on the edge of his nose. He’s always sitting when he's in class, but during clinic duty, he towers over me.

“Listen, I’m sorry for throwing you under the bus. I didn’t-” I begin, but he cuts me off.

“I’m not here about that. Well played, by the way,” he admits, and I feel that flutter in my chest again. “Jenna wants us in her office. Wants our opinion on something before we clock out.”

I nod, unable to stop a relieved breath from leaving my lungs. I chug down the rest of my energy drink, crushing the can in my hands before throwing it away. He chuckles and turns to walk towards the office. I follow close behind, not too keen on letting him beat me to something again.

When we finally reach the office, he pauses a moment before going in. Then, much to my surprise, he holds the door open for me. I just stare at him for a moment, trying to figure out what he could possibly gain from this.

“It’s not a trick,” he says reassuringly. “I just want to be a bit kind to you before I wipe the floor with you in this consult.” There it is. I stick out my tongue at him, not caring how childish I look. He shakes his head as I walk past him, muttering something about good sportsmanship.

Jenna is waiting for us in her office, a whiteboard standing on stilts in front of her as she chews on the end of her pen. When we enter, she turns to us with a smile on her face. A few more students pile in behind us and Jenna begins writing on the whiteboard.

“Alright, students. We had a patient come in with a hurt leg. She presents with hypersensitivity to touch as well as tendonitis and high calcium,” Jenna explains, writing the symptoms on the whiteboard in front of her. She pauses, turning back around to face us. “What do we do?”

“It could be an adenoma,” Zayne offers, and I curse myself for not being quick enough.

“That’s true, but it could be a multitude of things. Maybe kidney problems or a vitamin D intoxication?” I offer, and Jenna writes all of our suggestions down on the whiteboard.

“True, but I think the adenoma is still the best option. If not that, it could also be hyperthyroidism,” Zayne shoots back, and Jenna writes hyperthyroidism on the board. I begin to hit him with another response, but Jenna interrupts before I can.

“I believe an adenoma is the most likely cause. Good work, Dr. Zayne. What should we do with this information?” Jenna asks us, and I nearly punch Zayne when he speaks before I can.

“We’ll have to test her blood for PTH, phosphorus, and ionized calcium.”

“Very good, Zayne,” Jenna says, before turning to me. “And if those tests come back normal, we’ll start on your theory. Good work to you both,” she says, circling “adenoma” on the whiteboard. Zayne shoots me a sly smile, now holding up a two on one hand and a one on the other. I flip him off, and he chuckles to himself.

“Since the labs are closed for the night, they’ll have to process the blood in the morning. I’ll page you guys as soon as I get the results,” Jenna says, waving a hand to dismiss us. “Get some rest, and I’ll see you bright and early tomorrow.”

We all file out of the office, and I pause in the hallway for a moment. If I test the blood tonight, it will get her the results faster. And, more importantly, it will make me look amazing…

I turn down the hallway, my heels clacking against the tiled floors once again as I quickly make my way down to the lab. I scan my card against the door, sighing in relief when I notice that the lab is empty. I throw my backpack down on a chair, hurrying to the refrigerator at the back of the room and quickly scanning for the right vial.

The door swings open behind me, somebody else rushing in before pausing in shock. “Shit!” The voice mutters, and I turn to find Zayne in front of me, his eyes narrowed. “I should’ve known you would have the same idea,” he seethes, and I smile at the annoyed look on his face. He throws his backpack down, his notebook and a few papers spilling out onto the ground as he moves closer to me.

“You may have had the same idea, but I came up with it first,” I tell him, clutching the vial of blood in my hands. I turn and close the door to the fridge and when I turn back around, Zayne is much closer than before. I attempt to move away, but he blocks me in with his arms.

“Give me the vial,” he practically orders, and I can’t help but scoff at him.

“Wow, you really are a sore loser. Whatever happened to ‘may the best doctor win’?” I ask, and he doesn’t react. Rather than relent, he just sits there with his arms trapping me against the refrigerator. “Zayne?” I ask, now breathing a bit heavily under the man's piercing gaze.

In a moment of courage I did not know I possessed, I lean forward on my tiptoes until my mouth is next to his ear. “You lost this round. Let it go,” I whisper, and I swear he isn’t breathing as I lower myself back to my original position. He stays for a moment longer before finally letting his arms fall to rest at his sides.

I exhale a breath that I didn’t know I was holding, finally relaxing my tense shoulders. Zayne walks over to one of the counters, quickly putting on gloves before walking over to the machine sitting in the corner.

“Zayne, what are you doing?” I ask, and he doesn’t look up as he begins removing tools from the drawer next to him.

“Oh, just cleaning the centrifuge. It’s been a while since anyone has really given it a good scrub down.”

I pause, biting the inside of my cheek to keep myself from cursing him out. “Zayne, that’s the machine I need to use,” I say through gritted teeth. Zayne looks up at me from where he is disassembling the machine, false shock covering his face.

“Oh, is it? What a shame. Looks like you’ll have to do those tests tomorrow, instead.” He goes back to disassembling the centrifuge, a small (and annoying) smile now spreading across his face.

“You absolutely childish-” I begin, stopping to take a breath before I say something worse. I let out a sigh, rubbing my temples as I let my temper cool. “We’ll do the tests together. Share the credit. Is that good enough for you?” I groan, and he stops what he’s doing to face me.

“That’s an incredible idea. Can’t believe I didn’t think of it,” he says mockingly, and I nearly spit on him out of anger. This manipulative, conniving… He starts putting the machine back together, and I walk over to where he is standing to put the vial on a stand next to him.

“This is so incredibly unfair,” I whine, and he chuckles to himself. He turns to face me yet again, his eyes staring daggers into me from only inches away.

“You started this when you threw me under the bus in class, you know.” I suppose I deserve that. He finishes reassembling the machine, putting the vial in and pressing a button on the front. The centrifuge starts with a beep, and the blood begins spinning in its vial.

 I don’t say anything, moving away from him to grab some supplies from the cabinet above me. My attempt to reach the pipettes on the top shelf is in vain, and I stand on my tiptoes as I try to reach it. I hop slightly, barely reaching the corner of the box and coming back down empty-handed.

Zayne moves next to me, reaching up with ease and grabbing the box. He grabs a pipette and returns the box, holding the pipette out in his hands for me to take. Before I can touch it, he grabs my wrist tightly. I gasp, and he drops my arm almost instantly. Damn… wait, why did I enjoy that?  I push these strange feelings down, instead looking up at him inquisitively.

“Gloves,” he explains, and I curse under my breath. “You’ve been in this program for two years, yet you forget something as simple as gloves.”

“I was a bit distracted, Zayne. It’s not every day I am cornered in the lab by another doctor,” I say, and he smiles as he throws me a box of gloves.

“If I don’t keep you on your toes, then this competition will be boring. If I’m going to win so easily, I might as well have a bit of fun.” He turns back to the centrifuge, which has now stopped spinning.

“Prick,” I mutter, and he chuckles as he pulls the vial from the machine. He hands me the vial and the pipette before grabbing the microscope down from the cabinets above us. I carefully pipe out a few drops of blood before handing him the vial to put in the next machine.

I drop the blood onto a slide, placing it under the microscope before peering into it. I start to adjust the settings, the blood coming into focus as I turn each knob. I feel warm breath on my neck and flinch slightly at the sudden intrusion. I didn’t even hear him walk over here.

“Well?” He asks, his voice soft as his breath continues to dance across the skin of my neck. I don’t respond, the fluttering in my chest getting worse. Any attempt to pay attention to the blood in front of me is abandoned, my attention instead drawn to the warm presence looming behind me.

“Let me look,” he mutters, and I move out of the way quickly to let him peer into the microscope. I exhale a shaky breath, steadying myself against the counter. Why did that affect me the way that it did?

Zayne hums under his breath, moving the dials on the side of the microscope with intense focus. “Grab me my notebook, will you?” He asks, and I mutter something about not being his servant before turning around and doing exactly what he asked.

His backpack, having been thrown in his rush to beat me, is lying on the floor. His notebook is on the ground, as well as several papers that had come flying out during the landing. I bend down to pick them all up, my eyes catching on a crumpled ball of paper lying near his notebook. Is that…?

I quickly unravel the paper ball, staring blankly as I realize what it is. Our notes from class. My eyes scan over the paper, smiling to myself as I think about my victory over him in that class period. My eyes reach the bottom of the paper, realizing that I never got to read the final thing he wrote to me.

“And if you spend all class staring at me, you’ll never get the internship,” my messy writing reads. His beautiful, loopy letters are lined underneath it, and I gasp as I finally process the words.

“How could I not spend the class staring at you? You’re so beautiful when you’re lost in thought.”

That now-familiar fluttering returns to my chest, this time with a thundering rhythm. I somehow feel both excited and nauseous at the same time, my head swirling with so many emotions. I definitely like him, don’t I?

I gulp down some air before picking up his notebook, letting our notes sit on the top as I walk nervously over to where he is standing. His eyes are still on the blood, but he lifts his head as he hears me approaching. I hand him the notebook, our notes being the first thing he sees as he looks down.

He pauses, his breath seemingly caught in his throat. “You think I’m beautiful?” I ask, and he looks back up to me with wide eyes. “Or are you just saying that to ‘keep me on my toes’?” I ask, and he pauses for a moment before responding.

“I wouldn’t lie about something like that.” I feel a warmth spread across my cheeks, and I pray that I’m not blushing as much as I think I am. I push the notebook into his arms, not saying anything as I turn back to the microscope.

I attempt to keep my focus on the task at hand, trying to ignore the rampant pounding of my heart. Zayne drops the notebook onto the table next to us, his breath now resuming its place on the back of my neck. I can’t help but lean into his warmth, and he puts his arms on either side of me to rest on the counter.

“What do you see?” He asks, his voice husky in my ear. I try to focus, not wanting to let him know how much control he has over me. If he knows how affected I am, he’ll win. I inhale a shaky breath, bringing my eyes down to the blood in front of me.

“I-it looks… normal. To me, at least,” I mutter, and he moves back a bit so that I can turn around and face him. His sharp gaze never leaves my face, glancing slowly from my eyes to my lips.

“I noticed that, too. Looks like you might have been right,” he hisses, and despite the frown on his face, another emotion seems to glimmer in his eyes. The air between us is thick, his face mere inches from mine. His breath smells sweet, with light notes of peppermint dancing across it.

Heels clack, somebody quickly approaching from down the hallway, and Zayne quickly moves away from me as the door to the lab opens. Jenna enters, her eyes wide as she notes our presence in the room. Thanks for moving, Zayne.

“You two? I should’ve known you would be here. Such hard workers,” she praises, and I smile nervously as my blush grows deeper.

“Thank you, Doctor. We wanted to get a head start on that blood for the patient with the hurt leg,” Zayne tells her, and I nod along with him. Jenna nods, placing her purse down on the table by the door.

“I’m here for the same reason, actually. Any news?” She asks, seemingly unaware of the tense scene she had walked in on.

“We’re still waiting on one last test, but it appears that they were right. No adenoma,” Zayne admits, and I am floored by how easily he has admitted defeat. Jenna just nods in response, taking a sip out of her coffee mug before putting on some gloves of her own.

“Great work, you two. I’ll wait for that last test. Go home and get some rest,” she tells us, and Zayne opens his mouth to argue. “No, I insist. You guys don’t get paid for overtime, and I do. It’s better for everyone,” she winks, and Zayne concedes defeat. We grab our backpacks, thanking Jenna profusely as we leave the lab and enter the hallway.

Zayne doesn’t say a word as we walk down the hall, and I consider several different things I can say. “I win?” No, maybe “I told you so?” Or should I just leave it alone? I open my mouth to say something, but he grabs my wrist and pulls me into a dark room before I can begin.

“Zayne-” I begin, but he shushes me as locks the door behind him with a click. We are in one of the empty patient rooms, a clean and perfectly made bed sitting in the center of the room. He quickly shuts the curtains to the room, leaving only the small lamp in the corner to illuminate us.

I open my mouth to ask him what he’s doing, but he’s on me before I can get a single word out. His lips press against my own, almost hungry as bites my bottom lip. I can’t help but moan into his mouth, my lips moving aggressively against his as he pushes me against the door behind me.

One of his hands finds my hair, pulling slightly on my ponytail, which coaxes another moan from my mouth. His other hand finds the side of my face, pulling me even closer to him as his tongue sweeps across my bottom lip. I part my lips, letting him search my mouth with a ferocity I’ve never seen from him before.

I pull away for air, and he groans impatiently. “Zayne, where is this coming from?” I ask as he begins moving his lips down my face and onto my neck. A mewl escapes from my parted lips as he finds a particular spot in the crook of my neck, sucking on it roughly. “Zayne!” I say again, practically breathing out his name.

“I’ve been wanting to do this for a while now,” he whispers in between his kisses on my neck. “I love how aggressive you get, and how competitive you are... And- fuck- the way you talk to me? So bratty,” he moans out the last word, nipping at my neck with his teeth. I let out a yelp, and he licks the bite apologetically.

He pauses, looking up at me from where he is kissing my neck. “This is okay, right?” He asks, his eyes almost pleading. I scoff, pushing his head back towards my neck.

“Better than okay, Zayne.”

He groans against me, kissing me once more on the neck before tearing the lab coat off of my shoulders. He takes his off as well, licking along the column of my neck as he throws it to the floor. Without warning, he puts his arms around my bottom and lifts me in the air. I gasp, and he walks us over to the hospital bed as he presses another aggressive kiss on my lips.

He lays me on the bed, hiking my skirt up until my entire lower half is exposed. My underwear is now soaked, and he seems to notice almost immediately. A grin spreads across his face as he feels me through my underwear, the friction of the fabric against my clit making me hiss in a breath.

“We’ve only just started, and you’re already so wet for me,” he murmurs, a hint of pride in his voice. I try to think of something snarky to say, but his finger feeling me through my underwear sends another jolt of pleasure through my body.

He chuckles darkly, pulling his hand away. I let out a whine of protest, but his hands move up to his neck as he begins to loosen his tie. I watch the tendons in his hands flex, the beauty of just this small part of him enough to captivate me. He notices me staring, slowing his movements as his long, dexterous fingers untie the knot around his neck.

“I want those in me so bad,” I admit, and he smirks as he finally takes off his tie. He begins unbuttoning his shirt, each release of a button showing me more and more of his toned torso. He doesn’t take the shirt all the way off, instead choosing to let his lay open against his chest.

“Your turn,” he mutters, eyeing my clothed chest with impatience. I take the hint, quickly moving my fingers to unbutton my shirt. I manage to get most of them unbuttoned, my bare breasts finally exposed to the cold hospital air. Before I can finish unbuttoning it, though, Zayne pounces.

His thumb finds my nipple, already peaked due to the chill of the hospital room. He tweaks the tip of my nipple, sending a shiver down my spine as I arch my chest up into him. “So eager,” he moans, doing the same to the other nipple.

He lowers his head, taking one of my nipples in his warm mouth as he kneads my other breast with his hand. I curse as his tongue circles my nipple, the pleasure rippling through my body in waves. I almost beg him to come back when he finally pulls away, but he moves too quickly for me to get a word out.

His thumb hooks on my soaked underwear, pulling it down my legs before throwing it in the pile of lab coats next to him. He pauses, slowly rolling up his sleeves as I lay utterly bare before him. The sight alone sends another wave of pleasure through me. His eyes never leave me, finally rolling up his sleeves to his elbows and exposing his toned forearms.

He bends down on the floor in front of me, gripping my legs and pulling me towards the edge of the bed. I yelp in surprise, attempting to close my legs. He forces them back open with ease, positioning himself in between my legs as he looks up at me.

“Say the word, and I’ll stop.”

“Don’t you dare.”

He smiles, lowering his head down until his warm breath is dancing across my exposed pussy. I shiver, and he finally licks up my vagina until he reaches my clit. I shudder out a breath as his tongue swirls circles around it, moving torturously slowly. He brings his hand up to where he is working, slowly pushing a finger in and letting it curl inside me.

“F-Fuck, Zayne,” I moan, my hand coming down to find his hair and grabbing tightly. He just moans in response, the vibration against my clit sending me reeling. He puts a second finger inside me, massaging my walls with delectable pressure. I pull harder on his hair, which only makes him thrust into me with more intensity.

“You’re doing such a good job,” he moans into me, before resuming the work of his tongue on my clit. I feel my orgasm finally begin to build, the tension in my lower half beginning to reach its peak.

“Zayne, please,” I mutter, but my pleas are not enough. He pulls away, leaving me feeling empty as the cold air hits my exposed cunt. “Z-Zayne,” I whine, and he just makes a tsk noise.

“So needy,” he tells me, and I whine again as I feel my orgasm start to retreat. I hear the clink of metal and watch as he begins to unbuckle his belt, pulling the leather from the loops of his belt and letting it fall to the floor. He quickly unbuttons his slacks, letting them hit the floor at his feet.

All that’s left are his boxers, the only thing keeping me from what I want. When he doesn’t take them off, I sit up and move to take them off myself, kneeling down on the ground in front of him. He just grabs my wrists, making that tsk noise yet again.

“Patience is one of the most important traits a doctor can have, you know,” he murmurs, taking a moment to rub his thumb over my swollen lips.

“Says the guy fucking me in a doctor's office instead of asking me on a date first,” I answer back, taking his thumb in my mouth and sucking on it teasingly. He rolls his eyes, but he can’t quite hide the hunger now sparkling in them.

He pulls down the boxers, stepping out of them and kicking them to the side impatiently. His length is now fully exposed, and I almost start to feel nauseous just from the idea of it going in me. “There’s no way,” I whine, and he seems to think this is hilarious.

He pushes the tip of his dick towards me until it is tapping against my lips, rubbing teasing circles until I finally take him in my mouth. I take in just the tip, letting my tongue catch the small dots of precum and swirling my tongue around teasingly. He twitches at each rotation, and I can’t help but smile onto his cock.

I start to move slowly down the shaft, but there is no way I am fitting it in its entirety down my throat. Instead, I bring my hands to the bit left over and massage it roughly, my head bobbing faster as his hands reach my ponytail.

“F-fuck,” he manages to groan, his hand grasping my ponytail tightly as he helps move me up and down his length. His movements get sloppier, his legs shaking as his release approaches faster and faster with each bob.

Before he can finish, I pull my mouth off of him with a sinful pop. I stand back up, staring directly into his eyes as he looks down at me. Sweat is dripping from his hair now, a few shivers still racking his body as he stands bare in front of me. His cock is throbbing, and I watch as his pleading eyes turn to pure lust.

He pushes me back onto the hospital bed, and as I turn to try and escape, he manages to catch me around the waist. My back is now to him, my ass pressed firmly against his rigid length behind me. I can’t help but moan, letting him tease me by grinding into my backside.

“Please,” he whispers, his lips touching my ear as he pleads into it. He pauses for a moment, biting down lightly on my earlobe. “I can’t wait any longer. I need to feel you now,” he mutters again, letting one of his hands move back to my clit.

I lift my head over my shoulder, managing to reach his lips with my own as I give him a small peck. He presses his finger down harder on my clit, and I let my head fall again as I grow weak from pleasure.

“Say it,” he pleads again, his finger rubbing circles on me with a delectable pressure. I struggle to find the words, breathless from his length still grinding against my backside.

“P-please, fuck me. Oh G-God,” I manage to mumble out, and he doesn’t wait a second longer before he bends me over. His dick finds my folds, rubbing against them teasingly before slowly sliding into me.

He starts with just the tip, easing in and out a few times before finally pushing himself in fully. I have to bite back the scream that threatens to escape from me, the sensation of suddenly being so full of him almost too much to handle.

His thighs slap against my ass as he thrusts in again, his fingers digging into my hips as he moves me on him. I can already feel his fingers leaving bruises on me, and I suddenly feel grateful that the lab coat covers so much of my body when I wear it.

One of his hands finds its way up to my ponytail, yanking back on it roughly and sending my face upwards. He groans again, using my hair to help him thrust in even deeper than before. His cock rams over and over again into my G-spot, the release in my stomach building more with every thrust.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” he groans, his hand leaving my hair and instead moving around my waist. It presses down on my stomach, making my walls even tighter around him. He shudders, his arms wrapping around me in something close to a hug as he continues pounding into me.

I’ve nearly reached my peak when he brings his hand back down towards my clit. Rubbing quick circles around it as he thrusts even faster. It hits me, nearly blindingly, and I feel my body start to spasm. My legs are shaking, my orgasm making me clench tighter around his cock.

He lets out a curse, nearly whimpering as he finally falls apart. His grip around me tightens as he finishes, shooting deep inside me and somehow filling me up even more. He continues thrusting, his cock now throbbing as he finally slows down.

We let the spasms run their course, each of our bodies twitching from the sheer pleasure of it all. I finally collapse, his large body moving to cradle mine in the twin-sized hospital bed below us. Our foreheads touch as he presses a soft kiss to my lips, sweat dripping from both of us as he smiles stupidly at me.

“I’ve never seen you so disheveled before. You’re usually so well put together,” I mumble, marveling at the way the top student in our class heaves out a shaky breath and caresses my face with his hand. He kisses my lips again before trailing the kisses back down to my neck.

As he kisses the bruised spot on my neck, I lean down and put my mouth right next to his ear.

“Zayne: 2. Me: 2,” I whisper, and he stops kissing my neck immediately. He looks up at me, his eyes meeting mine with a deadly seriousness.

“Looks like we’ll need a tiebreaker then, huh?”

“What did you have in mind?” I ask, and he just gives me a devilish grin before trailing the kisses back down my neck, moving lower with each one.

⋆ ˚｡❆˚⋆ ˚｡❆˚⋆ ˚｡❆˚⋆ ˚｡❆˚⋆ ˚｡❆˚ ⋆ ˚｡❆˚⋆ ˚｡❆˚⋆ ˚｡❆˚⋆ ˚｡❆˚⋆｡

THANKS FOR READING GUYS! And thank you to the person who left this ask. I had so much fun researching for this one and ended up texting my biochemistry major friend to ask for help (hiiiiiii Rich, if you're reading this).

I'll have the other asks I've received posted soon, I promise!

-Robbie

[mssorceressupreme]

The Way I Loved You | F.W

———

Pairing: Fred Weasley x reader

Summary: Dumbledore has asked for every house to put on a performance during the Yule Ball, the winner will earn 250 House Points. For this particular dance you’re partnered up with George though you wish it was Fred, however during the dance George is nowhere to be found. You’re left there on the dance floor right before your performance, stranded, alone & embarrassed, will anyone save you?

Warnings: jealousy, mutual-pining, dance lessons from Fred Weasley, nothing else lol this one’s fluffy <3

A/N: was superrr inspired by that one scene in The Summer I Turned Pretty during the debutante ball where Conrad dances with Belly instead of Jeremiah 🥹🥹 feel free to listen to ‘That’s the Way I Loved You by Taylor swifts’ for this read

Sorry this one's kinda long, got a bit carried away but he's just so scrumdilicious x

———

The Gryffindor common room was lively with the crackle of the fireplace and the chatter of students winding down after a long day.

You sat cross-legged on the floor near Hermione, flipping through a book on charms, while Fred and George lounged on the sofa, tossing a chocolate frog back and forth like it was a Quaffle.

Lee was perched on the armrest, chiming in with his usual quips, and Ron was attempting—and failing—to beat Harry in wizard chess.

The portrait door swung open with a thud, and Ginny burst in, her face alight with excitement. “Everyone, listen up!” she called, cutting through the noise.

Fred groaned, tossing the chocolate frog into George’s lap. “What now?”

Ginny ignored him, standing proudly at the centre of the room. “Professor Dumbledore’s announced a competition taking place during the Yule Ball. Each house has to put on a performance, and the best one wins 250 house points!”

The room fell silent, except for the crackle of the fire.

“A performance?” Fred repeated, eyebrows raised. “You mean like... dancing in front of the entire school? Nope. No way. Count me out.”

“Oh, come on,” Ginny said, rolling her eyes. “You’re not scared, are you?”

“Scared? No. Smart? Yes,” Fred replied, sticking his tongue out at her teasingly.

Ginny mimicked him. “Fine. I wasn’t planning on pairing you anyway.”

“Good,” Fred said, leaning back smugly.

Lee raised his hand. “Yeah, same here. I’ll pass on the public humiliation, thanks.”

Fred breathed a slight sigh of relief at Ginny's words, thankful he had escaped that particular disaster. He noticed her next comment, however, and a feeling of dread settled in the pit of his stomach.

“Great,” Ginny said, undeterred. “McGongall's put me in charge of organising's Gryffindor performance and I’ve already got pairs in mind! Harry and me, Ron and Hermione, Neville and Angelina, and—” she paused, grinning at you, “you and George.”

Fred perked up slightly at this but quickly masked it with a yawn.

"Let's goo Georgie!" Lifting your hand up for a high-five with George.

Fred watched as you high-fived George, his eyes narrow slightly with jealousy. He couldn't believe Ginny would pair YOU and George together. The thought of the two of you dancing together, moving in sync, made his stomach twist uncomfortably.

As the others continued discussing the dance, Fred's gaze flickered to you, watching as you interacted with the others. He couldn't help but wonder what it would be like to dance with you, spin you around the dance floor, hold you close...

Fred quickly shook his head, banishing the thoughts from his mind. He had to keep it together. He couldn't let everyone know that he was secretly hoping to dance with you. Besides, Ginny had already paired you with George. There was no way to change that now.

“Practice starts at 7 in the Great Hall tomorrow,” Ginny continued. “Don’t be late!” ___

Right at 7 the next day, the eight of you plus Fred and Lee started making their way to the great hall, the energy in the air buzzing with anticipation.

Fred reluctantly followed, his heart pounding in his chest as he entered the grand room. "Oi Fred what are you doing here, I don't recall you being in the dance." Ron teased.

Fred rolled his eyes at Ron's comment, feigning indifference. "Just thought I'd come see how the professionals do it. Don't get too cocky, Ronald."

George snickered at Fred's response, clearly enjoying watching his twin squirm. In reality, Fred was here solely to keep an eye on you and George dancing together.

"Alright Gin, what do you have in mind?" You asked excitedly about the choreography.

Ginny beamed at your enthusiasm and clapped her hands together. "So, for the slow part, we're doing a simple box-step. Just a few basic steps with some swaying and twirling, nothing too complicated."

She demonstrated the steps with one of the boys. It looked fairly simple, a basic back and forth moving step with some twirling and having your arms around your partner.

"It's a fairly easy dance, with clear instructions for each step, just remember to move in sync with your partner, or it'll look like a chaotic mess." She chuckled.

She demonstrated the dance, moving her body to the beat of the imaginary music. It involved swaying, spinning, and stepping, all in time with the music. "That looks amazing, should be a piece of cake to get down." You noted.

You and George paired off going to one corner to rehearse while Ginny helped the others, and to your surprise, the two of you picked up the routine quickly.

“You’re a natural,” George said with a grin as you spun gracefully under his arm.

Across the hall, Fred and Lee sat against the wall, their arms crossed. Fred was trying to act indifferent, but his eyes kept wandering to you.

“You’re staring,” Lee said, nudging him.

“Am not,” Fred muttered, tearing his gaze away.

“Yes, you are. You’re jealous,” Lee teased, smirking.

Fred scoffed. “Jealous? Of George? Don’t be ridiculous.”

But the flush creeping up his neck betrayed him.

George, with a cheeky grin, took the lead, his hands confidently on your waist. He led you through the basic box-step, his movements smooth and precise. You, too, followed his guidance gracefully, executing the steps effortlessly.  You blushed, looking into his eyes as this was the first time you'd properly danced with a guy.

Though George was a delight to dance with, you couldn't help but secretly wish it was Fred, your long-time crush. But no way would you admit that to anyone, you did not want to ruin the long-term friendship you had with him, or worse, change the dynamic of the friend group.

Thinking of Fred, you looked over at him, making eye contact with him momentarily. 

Fred, watching from the corner, felt a sting in his chest when he met your eyes. The sight of you and George dancing together was almost too painful to bear. He tried to stay neutral, but the longing in his eyes betrayed his emotions. ___

The next day, you found yourself in the courtyard, practicing under a tree. George had been called away for something, so you were left to rehearse the steps alone.

“Left foot back, right foot forward... no, wait—” you muttered, stumbling.

Unbeknownst to you, Fred had been passing by when he noticed you under the tree. He paused, watching as you put your books aside and started recalling the dance steps. He stood there for a moment, debating whether to approach you or not. 

His heart was telling him to go over, strike up a conversation, flirt a bit. But his mind, the rational part of him, held him back.

He knew he should keep his distance, not get involved further. But he seemed to be losing the battle with himself.

Taking a deep breath, he decided he couldn't resist anymore. He walked over to you, trying to maintain his usual carefree demeanour.

From behind you came a familiar voice. “You’re doing it all wrong.”

You spun around to see Fred leaning against the tree, arms crossed and a smug grin on his face.

“Fred, go away,” you said, exasperated. “I’m trying to practice.”

“I can see that,” he said, strolling over. “And failing spectacularly, I might add.”

"I'm serious, I don't want to let Ginny down." You glared at him, pushing him away playfully.

Fred stumbled back a step, faking defeat. He chuckled as he regained his footing, his smirk widening. "Oh, I know, I know, can't have dear Ginny's dance being ruined, can we?" "Exactly. Now if you mind, i'm trying to recall my steps." You mentally practice in you head, moving slightly as you did so to your own rhythm. Fred chuckled, finding it slightly amusing and endearing how focused you were on remembering the steps. He leaned against the tree, crossing his arms, watching you with a mixture of playful mockery and genuine admiration. You then mimick the steps, putting your arm out pretending George was in front of you but it was hard without someone in front to guide you, "Wait no like this...? Two steps to the right?...or left was it?"

Fred watched you struggle, your movements clearly off without a partner to guide you. He couldn't help but smirk at your frustration and confusion, finding it quite charming how determined you were despite the difficulty. He pushed off the tree, coming to stand beside you.

"You know, I could help you, if you want. I'm an expert dance teacher, you know."  "Yeah right 'Mr. I Hate Dancing'..." You roll your eyes.

"Hey, don't underestimate me. I'll have you dancing like a pro in no time." He was confident, folding his arms proudly at his proclamation. "Fine, whatever, show me." You feigned defeat, desperately needing more help. Fred chuckled, pleased by your acceptance and secretly happy that he could be the one helping you for a change. "Alright, let's get started. Firstly, you need to focus on your stance. Feet slightly apart, weight slightly forward."

He demonstrated by adjusting his own stance, and then stepped closer to you, gesturing towards you to do the same. As you adjusted your stance accordingly, Fred came to stand directly in front of you, facing you.

His eyes traveled from your face down to your feet, sizing you up as he mentally began planning the steps he was about to explain. 

He continued, instructing you further as he shifted a bit closer. His voice was now lower, a hint of command in his tone.

"Now, you step back with your left leg first. Slightly bend your right knee as you do." He instructed and you nodded, watching him in a serious demeanour was rather attractive.

Unusual from his playful self, you observed his face, how he was focused, eyebrows furrowed, focused on helping you. "Good, now bring your right foot up to meet your left, closing the gap. Good, good. Keep your weight balanced between your feet. Don't lock your knees, just a little bend will do." You tried doing so but tripped, losing balance. Fred reacted quickly, his hands instinctively reaching out to steady you. He caught you in his arms, pulling you against his chest to prevent you from falling.

He chuckled softly, his hands still on your hips to keep you upright. "Woah, easy there. You're a bit clumsy today, aren't ya?" Yeah because you're so close to me right now Fred. You chuckle nervously. "Whoops, my bad!"

"It's a good thing I've got my reflexes, or you would have kissed the ground just now." He laughed, helping you steady yourself. "Hey maybe the ground needed a good kiss." You tease back jokingly.

Fred laughed aloud at your cheeky remark, his hands still on your waist, thumbs tracing small circles against your sides. He tilted his head slightly, arching one eyebrow mischievously.

"Oh really? And what about me? Do I get a kiss too since I saved you from kissing the ground?" He joked, but something in his eyes told you he partly meant what he said.

You blushed but played it off, "Yeah yeah you wish Weasley, now come on show me the steps."

Fred chuckled at your attempt to brush off his comment, but he couldn't help feeling a twinge of disappointment. Nevertheless, he complied, refocusing his attention back on the dancing lesson.

"Alright, alright. Let's try that again. Back step, knees bent, weight balanced, and..."

He demonstrated each step as he spoke, his hands guiding your hips gently on your left and right. As he moved, his body was incredibly close to yours.

The heat from his breath fanned against your skin, and his hands firmly grasping your hips sent tingles through your body. He could sense the effect his touch was having on you, yet he kept a calm and composed expression, maintaining the facade of a dancing teacher. Fred continued the lesson, occasionally correcting your stance, or gently repositioning your hips. Each time his touch lingered for a few moments longer than necessary, his fingers gently grazing your skin sending a small spark of electricity through your entire body.

Yet, he kept his focus on the lesson, acting as if he was completely oblivious to the effect he was having on you.

"Like this?" You ask, then show him your steps. Fred watched you closely, his eyes following the movement of your feet and hips as you demonstrated the steps.

He smiled approvingly, impressed with how quickly you were catching on. "Yes, yes, that's it. You've got it. Just keep your weight balanced and move with the rhythm. You're doing great." "Wow really?" You gleamed with joy, finally noting the steps down. 

Fred chuckled, enjoying the joy and excitement on your face as you realised you were getting the steps down. He nodded, a proud smile on his face."Of course really. I told you, didn't I? I'm an excellent dance teacher. Just a few more practices, and you'll be gliding across the dance floor like a pro tomorrow." "I'spose I do have a okay teacher." You remarked nonchalantly. 

George watched us then cleared his throat, holding himself back from chortling, "Okay, okay nice show. It's time for some real dancing now Y/N."

As George cleared his throat, both you and Fred looked over at him, having been so engrossed in the dancing lesson that you hadn't noticed his presence.

"Enjoying the show, were you Georgie?" Fred hummed.

"More like trying not to throw up from the eyes you were giving each other." George joked, knowing Fred's evident crush on you, "Anyway, it's time for practice, it's 7. Came looking for Y/N." George spoke, walking over to me.

As Fred released you from his grip, you felt a short wave of disappointment as his hands left your hips. But before you could dwell on that, George's hand took its place, his touch familiar and comforting yet lacking the spark that Fred's had.

George smiled at you, oblivious to the lingering tension between you and Fred. You looked back at Fred who stood there by himself, then turned to George who was walking with you.  As you followed George, you couldn't help but glance back at Fred. He remained by the tree, watching you as you moved away with George.

There was a mix of emotions in his eyes - disappointment, longing, and perhaps a hint of jealousy. Fred tried to act casually, leaning against the tree with his arms crossed, but his mind was swirling with conflicting thoughts and emotions.

Though he knew George meant no harm, seeing you with George was painful, especially since he was the one who had just been holding you close, teaching you the steps just moments ago.

___ The night of the Yule Ball arrived, and the Great Hall was a vision of sparkling decorations and twinkling lights. As you lined up with the other Gryffindors in one of the waiting rooms before your performance, George suddenly clutched his stomach.

"You alright George?" You ask, placing a hand on his back.

George waved his hand dismissively, trying to downplay his discomfort. "Yeah, I'm good. Just a bit of an upset stomach. Probably ate something rotten earlier. I'll be alright, don't worry." 

George then excused himself and went to the bathroom, feeling unwell. He hurried to the bathroom, trying to compose himself.

Meanwhile, Ginny, Angelina, and Hermione approached you, wearing concerned expressions.

"Is George okay? He look a bit pale just now..." Concern lacing in Hermione's voice.

"Tummy ache, probably ate something wrong earlier, its okay he'll be back in time for the dance..." You hoped, nervously as you began walking toward the hall, everyone waiting for your Gryffindor group, or team, to perform. 

Hermione nodded, her worry still visible. The three girls followed you out of the room, walking down the corridor toward the Great Hall where the entire school was waiting.

As the four of you reached the entrance to the Great Hall, the sound of hushed whispers and applause grew louder and louder. Every student in Hogwarts was gathered within, their eyes fixed on the stage, eagerly awaiting your grand performance. With every step you took toward the stage, the crowd's applause grew louder and louder. As the four of you finally took your places at the front of the stage, the audience erupted into cheers.

The boys then took their positions in their respective places, and the energy in the room was electric with anticipation. Still, George was no where to be seen. "Hey Ron, have you seen George?"you asked, but no luck.

Ron shook his head, looking just as concerned as you. "No, mate. I thought he was with you guys. Have you checked the bathroom?" You shook your head, "Harry, do you know where George is?"

Harry looked just as puzzled, worry etched on his face. "No, haven't seen him. He ran off earlier. Thought he was just going to the bathroom." "Neville, have you seen George?" You asked. Neville scratched his head, thinking. "Last I saw him, he was heading to the bathrooms. I thought he was just feeling a bit under the weather."The minutes ticked by, the tension in the room building. Everyone was in their positions, ready to dance, but you were standing there, feeling anxious without your partner. The audience started noticing the delay, their whispers turning into murmurs of confusion and anticipation. Oh no, you glanced around the room looking at the audience, this was the worst thing ever, you felt humiliated. Your heart raced, the feeling of embarrassment and hopelessness washing over you.

Every pair in the room was in their positions, ready to dance, except for you. Your eyes darted around the room, seeing the murmurs and whispers of the audience. You felt exposed, the spotlight on you as the delay continued.Hermione, Ginny, and Angelina watched you with sympathetic and worried expressions. They wanted to help, but there was nothing they could do. The situation was growing more embarrassing by the second as the absence of your partner became more glaringly obvious to everyone in the great hall. Professor McGonagall, standing at the back of the great hall, noticed the delay and the lack of a partner for you. She furrowed her eyebrows, puzzled by the situation.

The murmurs and whispers from the audience grew louder, filling the air with a sense of suspense. Just as the whispers grew even louder, Fred's gaze fell upon you.

His eyes widened in shock upon seeing you standing alone, looking visibly upset. He exchanged a worried look with Lee, who looked just as concerned. Fred's heart ached seeing you alone up there. 

Fred's mind raced, torn between his conflicting emotions. He wanted to charge up onto the stage and take your place as your partner, but something held him back. He looked at Lee, silently pleading for advice.

--- cue: That's the Way I Loved You by Taylor Swift ---

Fred couldn't bear the sight of you standing there alone, feeling more helpless by the second. He shot a determined look at Lee, silently letting him know that he had made up his mind.

Without another moment of hesitation, Fred pushed past the other couples and walked confidently toward the stage.

The murmurs in the audience grew louder, watching the unexpected scene unfold before them.

It felt as though time slowed down when you watched him approach you, your gazes fixed on each other, drowning out everyone else in the room. As Fred approached the front of the stage, his heart thumping in his chest, he met your worried eyes. He offered you a reassuring smile, silently letting you know everything was going to be alright now. 

Fred took his position beside you, the audience watching in stunned surprise as the change of plan unfolded before their eyes. Fred glanced at you once more, his eyes brimming with a mix of concern and determination.

You smiled at him, relieved, comforted, excited, all at once. Fred smiled back at you, mirroring your own excitement and relief. He offered you a wink, trying to lighten the moment a bit. "You didn't think I'd let you dance alone like this, did you?" "The steps..do you...?" You smile widely but was worried he might've forgotten the steps.

Fred chuckled, noticing your concern. "Please, I've been watching you guys practicing for ages. I know these steps as well as I know the back of my hand."  You smile widely...it was him. Fred, your Fred that you would be dancing with.  Fred grinned in return, loving the look of joy on your face. He couldn't help but feel a surge of excitement himself. He had dreamt of dancing with you like this for so long, and now here he was, finally getting the chance.

As the music started, you and Fred began moving in perfect sync, his strong hands effortlessly leading you through the steps of the dance.

The worry and uncertainty from earlier melted away, replaced by a feeling of pure magic as the two of you danced together on the stage. You gazed into his eyes lovingly, blushing, your heart beating faster because of how close your were.  Fred's eyes met yours, his heart racing with every step you took together. He was acutely aware of how close you were, the feel of your body near his sending his body into heat.

He could practically feel your heart beating as fast as his own. He tried to keep his composure, concentrating on leading you through the dance, but the way you looked at him made it incredibly difficult. As Fred pulled you closer, your bodies now almost pressed up against each other, he couldn't help but smile. Your shy smile sent his heart into a frenzy, making the dance even more thrilling.

As the music came to an end, the great hall erupted in a chorus of loud cheers and applause. You and Fred stood side by side, panting slightly from the exertion.

Your hearts were still racing, the excitement of the dance lingering in the air. Fred's hand was still holding yours, a warm smile on his face as he looked at you.

"I love you." Fred suddenly said.

"What?!" You responded, over the loud yelling and cheers. "I said, I love you." He confessed, stepping closer cupping your cheeks tenderly, "I always have Y/N. You're the only thing that's been on my mind for awhile now. Merlin, you consume my thoughts 24/7, I just, you're the best thing that has happened to me and I-"

You cut him off with a passionate kiss, meeting his lips with gentleness.

Warmth blossomed in your chest, sparks igniting as your lips brushed together with Fred's, for the first time. The smell of his cologne, was dizzying, electrifying, sending butterflies in your stomach.

His lips soft and gentle against yours, they were gentle, the way he was gentle with you, the way he cared for you spoke volumes through this kiss.

The both of you pulled away, he leaned down, resting forehead to forehead and grinning widely. "I love you too, Fred Weasley."

[scrollonso]

Cinnamon — Strollonso (1) (Prologue)

Lance sat at the same round table in the campus café, nursing yet another iced coffee, but this time, his nerves were frayed. His mind kept replaying the interaction with Dr. Alonso from the day before — the way his gaze had lingered, the way his voice had softened when he said Lance’s name.

“Earth to Lance.”

Jessica’s voice snapped him out of his thoughts. She, Esteban, Charles, and Zhou were all gathered around him again, but this time, they looked like they were dying to know what was going on inside his head.

“So?” Charles prompted, leaning in eagerly. “What’s the plan? Are you gonna talk to him again?”

"Are you going to suck him off?" Somehow, Zhou always knew what to say to get Charles to try and knock some sense into him.

Lance groaned, burying his face in his hands. “I don’t have a plan. I don’t even know what I’m doing.”

Esteban snorted. “You’re definitely flirting with him.”

“I’m not—”

Jessica cut him off with a knowing grin. “Oh, you are. And he’s flirting back.”

Lance peeked at her through his fingers. “You really think so?”

Charles rolled his eyes. “Yes, Lance. We all think so. The only question is: what are you gonna do about it?”

Before Lance could answer, his phone buzzed on the table. He glanced down, his heart skipping a beat when he saw the email notification:

From: alonso@mit.edu

Subject: Office Hours

Lance tapped the screen, opening the email.

Mr. Stroll,

I noticed you seemed uncertain during yesterday’s lecture. If you’d like to discuss the reading further, I’ll be holding office hours this afternoon at 2 PM.

Dr. Fernando Alonso

Lance stared at the message, his mind racing.

Jessica grabbed his phone out of his hand. “Oh my God. He totally wants you to come see him.”

Zhou whistled. “Office hours. That’s classic professor code for ‘I want to see you alone.’”

Lance snatched his phone back. “It’s not—” He stopped, rereading the email. “Okay… maybe it is.”

Esteban grinned. “You’re going, right?”

“I don’t know,” Lance muttered, his fingers twitching over his phone. “What if I’m wrong? What if he’s just being nice?”

Charles shook his head. “Nice professors don’t stare at their students like they’re dessert, Lance. Go.”

Jessica smirked. “Besides, don’t you want to see him? You’ve been drooling over his forearms for weeks.”

Lance flushed. “Fine. I’ll go.”

At 2 PM sharp, Lance stood outside Dr. Alonso’s office door, his palms sweaty again. He raised his hand to knock but hesitated.

Before he could talk himself out of it, the door opened.

Dr. Alonso stood there, impeccably dressed as always, his expression calm but unreadable.

“Mr. Stroll,” he greeted, stepping aside to let Lance in. “I’m glad you came.”

Lance swallowed hard and stepped inside, his heart pounding in his chest.

Dr. Alonso closed the door behind him, the soft click of the lock sounding far louder than it should have.

“I thought we could go over the reading in more detail,” Dr. Alonso said, motioning for Lance to take a seat. "it's not often you struggle in my class so i'd rather eliminate any possible confusion before you get behind."

Lance sat down, trying not to fidget as Dr. Alonso moved to sit across from him. The desk between them felt like a flimsy barrier, one that could easily be crossed.

“So,” Dr. Alonso began, his gaze steady. “Power dynamics. You seemed particularly interested in that topic yesterday.”

Lance cleared his throat, struggling to find his voice as he pursed his lips into a fine line. “Yeah, um… it’s an interesting concept.”

Dr. Alonso tilted his head slightly, his lips curving into a faint smile. “It is. Especially when applied to… certain relationships.”

Lance’s breath caught.

“Tell me,” Dr. Alonso continued, his voice dropping just slightly, “what do you think happens when one person holds more power in a relationship? How does it affect… let's say, attraction?”

Lance’s heart was racing now. Was this still about ethics?

“I think…” Lance hesitated, meeting Dr. Alonso’s gaze. “I think it depends on whether the power is mutual.”

Dr. Alonso leaned forward, resting his arms on the desk. “And do you think it can be?”

Lance nodded slowly. “Yeah. If both people are willing to… share it.”

Dr. Alonso’s smile deepened. “A wise answer.”

For a long moment, neither of them spoke. The air between them crackled with tension, unspoken words hanging heavily in the silence.

Finally, Dr. Alonso stood, walking around the desk until he was standing just in front of Lance.

Lance looked up — he hadn't felt this small in god knows how long — his pulse thundering in his ears.

“You’re not just any student, Mr. Stroll,” Dr. Alonso said softly, his eyes never leaving Lance’s. “You’ve… caught my attention.”

Lance’s breath hitched. “I have?”

Dr. Alonso nodded, reaching out to gently brush a stray lock of hair from Lance’s forehead.

“Yes,” he murmured. “And I find myself… wanting to know more.”

Lance’s heart nearly exploded. Holy shit. This is actually happening.

“And you?” Dr. Alonso asked, his voice barely above a whisper. “Do you feel the same?”

Lance swallowed hard, then nodded. “Oh, Yea— Yeah… I do.”

Dr. Alonso’s hand lingered for a moment before he pulled away, stepping back.

“We’ll need to be careful,” he said, his tone serious. “But if you’re willing to take the ri—”

Lance stood, closing the distance between them. “I am.”

Their eyes met once more, and this time, neither of them looked away.

Dr. Alonso’s lips curved into a smile. “Good.”

For a moment, the world outside the office ceased to exist. Lance could feel the steady thrum of his heartbeat in his ears, his gaze locked on Dr. Alonso’s — no, Fernando’s — dark, intense eyes.

Fernando leaned against the desk, his posture casual yet commanding. “You’re certain?” he asked, his voice low and deliberate.

Lance nodded again, more confident this time. “I wouldn’t be here if I wasn’t.”

A flicker of something passed through Fernando’s gaze — surprise, maybe even amusement. He crossed his arms, the muscles in his forearms flexing under his rolled-up sleeves.

“You realize this… complicates things,” Fernando said, his lips twitching into a faint smirk.

Lance couldn’t help but grin back. “I’ve never really been one to go for simple.” He figured that much was obvious considering he was a double major and had managed to take one of Fernando's classes two years in a row now.

Fernando chuckled softly, shaking his head. “Of course you haven’t.”

The tension between them hung in the air, thicker now, charged with anticipation. Lance shifted his weight from one foot to the other, resisting the urge to close the remaining space between them again.

Fernando tilted his head, his eyes narrowing slightly in thought. “There’s a fine line, you know, between temptation and consequence.”

Lance quirked an eyebrow. “Which side are we on right now?”

Fernando’s smile deepened. “That depends on how far you’re willing to go.”

Lance took a slow step forward, his voice steady. “I told you — I’m all in.”

The room felt smaller now, the distance between them shrinking with each breath. Fernando watched Lance carefully, his expression unreadable, but there was no denying the spark in his eyes.

“I could lose everything,” Fernando murmured, almost to himself.

“And so could I,” Lance countered, his tone gentle but firm.

For a long moment, Fernando said nothing. Then, with deliberate slowness, he reached out, his fingers brushing Lance’s cheek. The touch was light, tentative, as if testing the boundaries of what they were about to cross.

“You’re dangerous, Mr. Stroll,” Fernando whispered, his thumb grazing Lance’s jaw.

Lance smiled, leaning into the touch. “Maybe you like it.”

Fernando chuckled again, his hand slipping to the back of Lance’s neck, pulling him just a fraction closer.

“Perhaps I do,” he murmured, before finally — finally — closing the distance between them.

The kiss started soft, almost cautious, as if both of them were testing the waters. But the moment Fernando’s hand slid to the back of Lance’s neck, pulling him closer, the tension that had been simmering between them exploded.

Lance’s hands gripped Fernando’s shoulders, fingers digging into the fabric of his shirt. He wasn’t holding back anymore — neither of them were. Fernando's lips moved with purpose, deepening the kiss until it became all-consuming, leaving Lance breathless. Their mouths melded together in a frantic rhythm, desperate and hungry.

Fernando backed Lance up against the desk, his hands traveling down to Lance’s waist, pulling him flush against his body. Lance gasped into the kiss, his fingers sliding into Fernando’s hair, tugging just enough to earn a soft groan from the older man. It sent a shiver down Lance’s spine.

“Fuck,” Lance whispered against Fernando’s lips, his voice shaky.

Fernando chuckled, his breath warm on Lance’s skin. “Language, Mr. Stroll.”

Lance laughed softly, tilting his head to capture Fernando’s mouth again, more eagerly this time. Their kisses grew messier, more fervent, teeth clashing and tongues tangling. Fernando’s hand slipped under the hem of Lance’s shirt, fingers tracing over his hipbones, and Lance arched into the touch.

“Do you have any idea what you’re doing to me?” Fernando murmured, his voice low and strained.

Lance bit his lip, his cheeks flushed. “I think I’m starting to.”

Fernando’s lips found Lance’s neck, leaving a trail of kisses along his jaw and down to his collarbone. Lance tilted his head back, eyes fluttering shut as Fernando nipped at his skin, leaving faint marks.

“You’re driving me insane,” Fernando muttered, his grip tightening on Lance’s waist.

“Good,” Lance breathed out, pulling Fernando even closer. His heart was pounding, every nerve in his body alight with desire. “I want to.”

Fernando pulled back just enough to meet Lance’s gaze, his eyes dark with want. “Careful,” he said, voice rough. “You don’t know what you’re starting.”

Lance smiled, his lips swollen and his hair a mess. “Maybe I do.”

“I’ve wanted to do this for longer than I care to admit,” Fernando confessed, his voice rough with emotion.

Lance laughed softly, brushing his fingers through Fernando’s hair. “Glad I’m not the only one.”

The moment was perfect — until a sharp knock on the door shattered the silence.

Fernando pulled back quickly, straightening his posture and smoothing down his shirt. Lance stepped back as well, his heart still racing.

“Come in,” Fernando called, his voice calm and composed, as if nothing had happened.

The door creaked open, revealing Jessica standing there with a smug grin on her face.

“Lance, you’re late for our study session,” she said, her tone dripping with amusement. Her eyes flicked to Fernando briefly before returning to Lance, a knowing look in her gaze.

Lance cleared his throat, grabbing his bag. “Right. Study session.”

Jessica smirked, stepping aside to let Lance out. “See you in class, Dr. Alonso.”

Fernando nodded, his expression perfectly professional. “See you, Ms. Hawkins.”

As they walked down the hallway, Jessica glanced at Lance. “So… how was your ‘context’ conversation?”

Lance groaned, running a hand through his hair. “Don’t start.”

Jessica laughed. “Oh, I won’t. But Charles and Esteban? Good luck.”

Lance couldn’t help but smile, his mind still lingering on the kiss — the kisses.

“Worth it,” he muttered under his breath.

Jessica raised an eyebrow at him as they walked. “What was that?”

“Nothing,” Lance said quickly, but the grin tugging at his lips gave him away.

Jessica looped her arm through his. “You’re glowing, Stroll. I’ve never seen you like this. I mean, I know Dr. Alonso is… well, ridiculously hot — but damn. I didn’t expect you to actually do something about it.”

Lance’s cheeks turned pink, and he tried to hide his face by looking straight ahead. “It wasn’t planned.”

“Oh, clearly,” Jessica teased. “You just happened to make out with your ethics professor during office hours. Totally normal.”

Lance groaned. “Okay, fine. Maybe I’ve been crushing on him for a while.”

Jessica stopped in her tracks, forcing Lance to do the same. “You think?”

Before he could answer, the sound of familiar voices echoed down the hallway. Charles and Esteban were leaning against the wall outside the study lounge, deep in conversation.

When they spotted Lance and Jessica approaching, Esteban’s eyes narrowed suspiciously. “Where the hell have you been?”

Charles crossed his arms, a smirk already forming on his lips. “Wait. Don’t tell me. Were you—”

Jessica cut him off, grinning wickedly. “Let’s just say someone got a little distracted.”

Lance shot her a warning look. “Don’t.”

But Esteban was already piecing it together. His jaw dropped. “No way. No fucking way. You and Alonso?”

Charles barked out a laugh. “You absolute madman.”

“Guys, seriously—” Lance started, but it was no use.

“Holy shit,” Esteban said, his eyes wide. “This is like… forbidden romance. Teacher-student. Secret meetings. Do you know how scandalous this is?”

Jessica rolled her eyes. “It’s not a soap opera, Esteban.”

Charles leaned in, his grin smug. “So… was it good?”

Lance flushed, glaring at his friends. “I hate all of you.”

“Come on, tell us,” Charles pushed. “He doesn’t strike me as the kind of guy who does anything halfway.”

Lance groaned again, rubbing his temples. “I’m not discussing my love life with you two.”

“Love life?” Esteban repeated, eyes wide. “You’re calling it a love life already?”

“God, you’re all insufferable,” Lance muttered, but he couldn’t stop the smile from creeping onto his face. His thoughts kept drifting back to Fernando’s touch, his kiss, the way he’d looked at him like Lance was the only person in the world.

Jessica patted his shoulder. “It’s okay, Lance. We’re just jealous. None of our professors look like that.”

“Or kiss like that,” Charles added with a wink.

“Shut up,” Lance hissed, though he couldn’t help laughing.

As they finally settled into the study lounge, Esteban leaned over, whispering conspiratorially, “So… what happens now?”

Lance’s smile softened. “Now? I guess… we figure it out.”

And, deep down, he already knew he was willing to take the risk — because something told him that whatever he and Fernando had started was only the beginning.

Next

[jbaileyfansite]

Jonathan Bailey Teases ‘Wicked: For Good’ to IndieWire

“Wicked” is continuing its blockbuster run in theaters and awards season (on Sunday, January 5, it snagged the inaugural Cinematic and Box Office Achievement Award at the Golden Globes), and fans can’t wait for more.

“Wicked Part 2,” now titled “Wicked: For Good,” will hit theaters on November 21, 2025 — and the cast is just as excited as audiences. When IndieWire recently caught up with Jonathan Bailey to discuss his role as the charming Prince Fiyero in the musical adaptation, he teased the changes to come with Part 2.

“I think we understand the world and how it works [now],” he explained. “I’m really excited for the tonal shift. The world gets heavier and more complicated and there’s just that pumping sense of hope and joy and resilience and all the things that we love about Elphaba’s journey that I can’t wait for.”

The ending of Part 1 finds Elphaba (Cynthia Erivo) on the run, as she becomes a political enemy of the Wizard (Jeff Goldblum), while her newfound friend Glinda (Ariana Grande) is swept up with powerful forces determined to make her a PR mouthpiece throughout Oz.

Fans of the musical know that while Part 2/Act II is darker than Part 1, it also contains a few all-timer musical numbers, including “For Good,” “No Good Deed,” and “As Long As You’re Mine.” When this reporter brought up to Bailey their excitement about seeing how “As Long As You’re Mine” — a sexy, powerful duet between Elphaba and Fiyero — plays onscreen, Bailey agreed it would be worth the wait.

“‘As Long as You’re Mine,’ I was listening to that on [my] bike on the way to meet Jon Chu back, you know, however many years ago, and that’s always been one of my favorite songs,” Bailey said about his apropos music choice for his first chat with the director. “So I’m really excited for that as well. It’s amazing.”

Bailey, an Olivier winner on the London stage, has been a fan of the show since he saw a production of “Wicked” when the stage musical came to London. He’s now enjoying the surreal, very full-circle moment of watching the film version with his family.

“Going to see ‘Wicked’ with friends and family and my Nana the day after it came out here, it’s just really struck me that it is all about local community projects,” he said of his childhood filled with acting and dance classes. “There’s so many moments in your life where you can be inspired by art and passions can be awakened, but the biggest travesty is to allow them to remain dormant when you know they’re there. And so I’m always grateful for Fiyero and ‘Wicked’ because it really has brought my dancing back in [to my life], which is amazing.”

“All I can hope for is to is to continue honing the craft, get back on stage, learn a bit more, make mistakes and then continue,” Bailey said about his post-“Wicked” plans. “And meet lovely people along the way, because I think that’s what it’s all about — hav[ing] a bloody good time.”

Source

[judeable-brainrot]

trans!artrick both starting the academy and they don’t know about eo but start suspecting they may have more in common than just tennis. and art is dying to know so he asks in what he thinks is a suddenly way and is turns into a very beautiful friendship (turned relationship)

sighhhh my boys <3

they meet during move in and just something about one another draws them in. maybe it's Art's slightly too soft baby face or Patrick's too curved calves, but these almost missable factors seem to draw an investigation from one to the other.

out of the two of them, Art is the most curious and nosy, like a small puppy. being an only child for his whole life, he can't help but want to know more about his new roommate than he was actually telling him himself. so, when Patrick has a late practice one evening, he decides to snoop. he tries the usual places, dresser drawers, in the back of his closet, but the place he does end up finding something, is his bathroom cabinet. a small pouch, inside containing vials and syringes, similar to his own. also marked, testosterone.

the blond waits quietly on his bed, pretending to study while he nervous anticipates Patrick's arrival. he has to ask. so when the brunette finally comes heaving through the door, the conversation is barely there before Art is blurting out, "are you trans?" Patrick stills in the middle of setting his tennis bag away, back to the other boy. he says nothing. Art continues on his ramble. "i-i just saw your bag in the bathroom and it looked like mine so it isn't a bad thing or me being an ass i just—"

"like yours?" Patrick repeats softly, turning to him, eyes vulnerable. Art nods. "like mine.." that evening, they discuss it, their other shared commonality. they talk transitions, coming outs, surgeries, goals—even sexualities. all is back to the peace they one had, even ranging into deep comfort now that they had found a safe haven with one another.

but as boys often do, their minds start to turn elsewhere after a few months and they can't help but be curious of other things. it drives them to a drunken night of kissing sloppily in some frat house bathroom, Patrick groping at Art's ass while Art moans against his mouth. they go on like that for some time, leaving the house with flushed cheeks and mused hair, the walk back quiet and stumbly. they flop into their beds, ready to pass out when Art breaches the silence. "Pat..?" "hmm?" "what...what are we..?"

Patrick is quiet for a few moments, nearly leaving Art to think he's fallen back to sleep until he speaks. "i..what wold you like to be..?" Art swallows, rolling on his side in the dark to face him. "i..i'd like to be boyfriends, i think. if you'd want that too." he hears the bed creak and sees Patrick's figure roll over to face him. "i want that..a lot." Art can't help the small smile that rolls across his face in the darkness, barely registering as Patrick's larger body crawls into bed with him, pulling the smaller boy into his arms. he kisses his head. "my boyfriend.."

[ofmdrecaps]

12/27-31/2024 Daily OFMD Recap Part 2

TLDR; David Fane & Rachel House; Anapela Polata'ivao; Connor Barrett & Brian Gattas; Dominic Burgess; Damien Gerard; Christopher Corbin; Adopt Our Crew Lists; Articles; Fan Spotlight: Tiny Crew Big Raffle w/Lindsey Cantrell Interview and BTS; Our Flag Means Fanfiction; Love Notes;

Continuation of Part 1

= David Fane & Rachel House =

Are you in Aotearoa and want to show your support to the Maori people? Our dear Fang, David Fane (and Mary Reed, Rachel House) shared how to's on how to make a submission on the Treaty Principles Bill. Check out more at Koekoeaa's Instagram!

Source: David Fane's instagram

= Anapela Polata'ivao =

Anapela was out at PerthFest with other members of the Tinā film!

Source: Anapela's IG Stories

= Conner Barrett & Brian Gattas =

Our Hornberry and Siegfried are out and about with friends for the holidays!

Source: Brian Gattas Instagram Stories

= Dominic Burgess=

Dominic, aka Jeffrey Fettering, aka the cat-content king of social media is back with more cats!

Source: Dominic's Bsky

= Damien Gerard =

Our Father Teach is on vacation for the holidays and he sent so much love our way!

Source: Damien's Bsky

= Christopher Corbin =

So you may remember, our "We Could have Made Magic" Pirate, Christopher Corbin played santa in a an NFL ad recently. He posted the progression from Chris to Kris Kringle, and I just had to share it because it made me giggle!

Source: Christopher Corbin's instagram

== Adopt Our Crew ==

Our absolutely awesome fan crew, @adoptourcrew put together some lists regarding our dear show, and it looks like 30 different articles featured OFMD as one of the worst cancellations of 2024!

Source: Adopt Our Crew Bsky

They also put together a list of the Select 2024 Media Mentions! OFMD averaged at least one media mention per week! Holy cow!

Source: Adopt Our Crew Bsky

== Articles ==

Thank you to @adoptourcrew as always for the many articles OFMD has been featured in recently!

Source: Adopt Our Crew Instagram

Source: Adopt Our Crew Instagram

== Fan Spotlight ==

= Tiny Crew Big Raffle =

In honor of the Tiny Boats raffle, the @ofmd-buys-boats team had an Interview with our dear Set Dresser, Lindsey Cantrell! You can read the full thing on their substack-- here's a sneak preview!

They were kind enough to let me share the info here as well!

"Amy: What was your favourite set to dress? Linds: What a hard question. The favorite that first comes to mind is John Bartholomew's Captain's Quarters. The scene where Zheng Yi Sao leads a raid on Bartholomew's ship, and then convinces him to join her crew. The day we were going to shoot this scene was pulled up in the schedule, so during a few lunches and a few private rehearsals, I was brought over to the unfinished set to get my opinion on the status of its dress. What to add, where to move items, take away, etc. And it needed to get done quickly. We were pulling dressing from all over. Production Designer Ra and Art Director Troy really wanted it to be layered. They were discussing someone who'd lived in that space for ages. Our Set Dec team left the bones of it in a good place, but on the day we went to shoot it, we still scrambled a bit throwing items together for more chaos (some good ideas, some bad- ie: a stool ended up on top of a dresser?) I still love the way the lighting was shot through those windows and how it all came together. Plus, didn't that charcuterie look delicious?"

Source: OMFD Buys Boats Instagram

"Amy: Speaking of the tiny boats, we’d be remiss if we didn’t ask about them too - how did you make them and how long did it take you? I can testify from making repairs to our broken ones that they’re fiddly little things! Linds: Yes they are! The strain on my eyes that week! The bases of these tiny ships are custom lead molds created in the Propmakers Workshop. Next, painted and aged brown. Then, one by one I stabilized them and carefully drilled one tiny hole in the semi-center of each ship's base. Hoping each time that I didn't push too hard or for too long, potentially breaking through to the bottom. So I held my breath and got through all of that step. Off to the side, I had the makings for the tiny flags. I painted and aged what felt like a million toothpicks to start. Trimming off the bottoms of one end so they would sit flat inside my pre-drilled hole. I cut the different pieces of construction paper in a tiny triangle with one flat end, and put a line of glue on that side to place underneath a toothpick and rolled it over to hold. Some bits of my fingertips are definitely attached to the glue inside those tricky little flags. When my deadline was getting closer, I started to just begin placing the dried flags inside the bases the next day. Until I found some of them falling over by the time I came back from lunch. So then I realized I needed to add one tiny drop of super glue into the hole first. The final precise measure was making sure when I held the flag down to attach, that I was holding it straight up & down. Sounds easy enough, but if you're only looking at one side, you may be pushing the flag down and away. So if you check your other angles afterward, you'd notice it's leaning to that opposite side, as if the tiny ship is in a storm, someone told me. [...]"

Source: OFMD Buys Boats Instagram

Once again-- for the whole interview and additional BTS please check out their substack! Thank you so much @ofmd-buys-boats for not only giving us this wonderful gift but allowing me to share some of them as well!

= Our Flag Means Fanfiction =

Our friends over at Our Flag Means Fanfiction are looking for more co-hosts!

"Everyone is always invited to be a part of the podcast! Here are 3 ways you can be involved (if you can think of more ways, definitely share them!) 1) Narrate a fic for a minisode! Just get the author's permission first then e-mail the audiofile (mp3 or wav) to ourflagmeansfanfiction@gmail.com. Everything you send in, I will put it on the pod. 2) Want to be on an upcoming episode? Just DM here or send an email and consider yourself included the next time we record. 3) Have a group of friends and want to make your own episode? Do that! Just make your own podcast episode using zoom then send the audiofile to ourflagmeansfanfiction@gmail.com and I'll edit it (remove all the pauses, ums, and anything else you want cut out). This is an all-inclusive, open-source, podcast. Everyone who wants to be involved, can be! #ofmd#ourflagmeansdeath#fanfiction"

Source: Our Flag Means Fanfiction Instagram

The next Gay Pirate News Hour airs on Jan 4, you can check it out on the Our Flag Means Fanfiction Youtube!

Source: Our Flag Means Fanfiction Instagram

== Love Notes ==

I really am so sorry I'm so behind lovelies. I hope you all had a wonderful and restful holiday season. I'm going to share a few extra love notes tonight because I've seen some really lovely stuff the last many many days -- and I have so much to say and haven't had a way to do so.

The first I wanted to share is from TheLatestKate with the message I most want to send to all of you. This year has been a hell of a time, and you have no idea how very grateful I am that you were here to share it with me and so many others, and still are.

Source: The Latest Kate's Instagram

Life can be so damn hard and sometimes it feels like you just aren't making any progress... or your impact isn't as big as you want it to be.

I wanted to remind you though that the earth spins at 1000 miles per hour (1,600 km/hr), that's 24,000 miles per day (38625 km/day)... but sitting on it, it doesn't seem to be moving at all. Now look at it from space, and you can see it rotating, you can see the light of the sun reflecting off of it. You can see all the lights on the dark side, and the clouds, and the winds, and vastness of the oceans. That's what I see in you. That's what others see in you. We can see all the wonderful things you are, and how brightly you shine because we aren't living it second to second like you are. So please believe me when I say this-- you are capable of anything, and you are doing SO DAMN WELL despite this crazy life.

View this post on Instagram

A post shared by Katie Abey ☀️Angela Sandland 🧚🏻 spirituality and creativity (@happinessenchanters)

Source: Katie Abey's Instagram

Our Pirate Queen shared this one (I couldn't remember if I'd shared it before, but here it is again if so!). Your softness, your creativity, all of that is your strength and I will die on that hill.

Source: Ruibo's Instagram Stories / HopeHealingArts Instagram

Lastly, I just wanted to say thank you for being a part of this little community called the OFMD fandom. This crew is phenomenal, and it has brought out so much love and healing in me (and so many of us) this past year. You are beyond a doubt some of the kindest, most badass people on the planet, and I am so very happy I get to share what little bits of time I can with you. I am slow to respond to things right now because of how crazy life is, but please know I'm here if you need me. I want so very much to see you succeed, and grow, and bloom in this crazy messed up world we live in. You are the change, and the softness this world needs, and I believe whole heartedly that each time you are kind to someone, you emit a wave of change that makes the world a better place. Rest up lovelies. Happy New Year <3

View this post on Instagram

A post shared by bailey (@anxiety.positive)

Source: Anxiety Positive's Instagram

[maddy-k-reads-all-day]

Snow Day! - Kate is Alive AU part 3!

Part 2:

“So Riley, this is Margret. She works at the Kensdale Library with me.” Kate explained. 

“Nice to meet you…” Margret replied, “I see that you’re the one who put me in this difficult position!”  

“I’m… sorry?”

“Since Kate is supposed to be dead and now you’re missing, I had to explain why there was a dead body in Kate’s office to the police!” Margret explained, “Well… at least I managed to turn it in our favor.” she sighed, rubbing her temples. 

“YOU TOLD THE POLICE TO WATCH THE TAPES!” Kate shouted. Riley looks at Margret with panic and confusion. 

“Hold it. You’ve got it all wrong. I pinned the crime on Hameln in order to get the police to look into them more deeply.” 

“What did you say?” Riley asks. 

“I simply explained that I knew Joanne and a number of others were looking into a cult that had been involved in the kidnappings of multiple children. I said that the cult had been making anyone who was looking into them ‘disappear’.” “There’s no way they believed all that.” Kate sighed. 

“Oh they seemed to totally buy it actually.” Margret nodded, “Because I made sure to phrase it in a way that didn’t sound completely insane.” she said in a way that felt like a personal jab at Kate. “I showed them all the evidence I had on hand of the kidnappings. I showed them the letters from the parents whose kids watched the show. I explained that the cult had created the cartoon in order to brainwash children and make them easier to trick and lure away from home, as well as teaching dangerous lessons to make kids turn against their parents and go into unsafe places. I told them if they didn’t believe me they should watch the tapes themselves. They asked me if I had more evidence, and I said I’d be able to gather all of it for them and give it to them. We’re meeting again to discuss it on Saturday.” 

“We’re giving them ALL OF IT?!” 

“Kate, calm down. This is why we made copies of everything, remember?” 

“That’s actually really smart.” Riley marveled. 

“You can thank Peter for that.” Margret winked.

“So you need me to gather a copy of everything before then?” 

“Remember which of us has a job Kate?” Margret says, raising an eyebrow, “It shouldn’t take long, considering I organized it all.” 

“Organized she says…” Kate sighs, rolling her eyes. Margret furrows her brow. 

“It would be if you put things back where they belong!”

“Ugh fine…” 

“Um… so I guess I’ll watch the next tape by myself then?” 

“No, I'll watch it with you.” Margret says, flopping down next to Riley. Kate looks appalled. Now that Margret was right next to them, Riley noticed the bags under her eyes. “Oh PLEASE I deserve a break don’t I? After I saved your behind again?” Kate sighed and rolled her eyes.  

“Well alright. Margret, this is Riley, my brother’s child.” Kate explained, “And they found out something interesting…” 

“What’s that?” Margret questioned. 

“When I watched the tape with them, they brought out an interesting side of Amanda and Wooly that we haven’t seen before… and we learned some interesting things from it.” 

“Oooh. Interesting. How’d you do it?” Margret asked, getting way too close to Riley’s face. 

“I didn’t do anything too crazy, I just answered incorrectly on purpose sometimes to see what they’d do.” 

“Oh I see, the exact thing Kate told me NOT to do unless strictly necessary.” “Look, we needed to gain Rebecca’s trust, so actively upsetting her didn’t seem wise.” 

“But Amanda says she trusts me.” 

“By some miracle.” Kate sighed before leaving the room. Margret looked over Riley’s shoulder at the tape they had. “Snow Day hm? I don’t think I’ve seen this one yet.” She takes it from Riley and places it into the VCR. “Let’s see what you got!” she laughed. The tape starts with Amanda and Wooly looking out a window. 

“Wow… it’s really coming down out there…” Wooly mumbles.

“You know what that means…” Amanda says excitedly. She looks at the screen and grins. “Hi there, I’m Amanda!” 

“Oh! And I’m Wooly!” Wooly smiles. Amanda keeps looking at the screen.

“Oh, it's you!” She gasps. “Hey we should play tag next time, okay?” The voice prompt appears.

“Sounds like a plan, a man… da!!” Amanda gives Margret a weird look. “Yeah I don’t know what that joke was supposed to be…”

“Do me a favor and never tell a joke again.” Amanda scoffs, “Anyway… today we’re having a snow day!” she cheers, jumping up and down. Wooly does not look so excited. “Oh! But before we go outside-” 

“Do we have to go outside?” Wooly groans. “It’s going to be so cold!” Amanda gives him an annoyed look. The tape glitches a bit. 

“That’s why we’ll need our snow gear!” Amanda beams. Three blue plastic bins appear. Each one has a different picture on it. The first has a picture of a snowflake. The correct answer. Riley observed. The second has a picture of a rain cloud. Why would your rain gear be in the attic? Riley wondered. The third has a picture of building blocks. Now those aren’t even clothes! “I pulled out these three bins from the attic! Can you tell me which one holds the winter clothes?” Amanda asks. Riley taps their finger on the TV screen at the rain cloud.

“No silly, that’s for rainy days!” Amanda smiles, “Try again!”  

“That wasn’t too weird…” Margret mumbles. Riley taps the bin with the building blocks on it. 

“Ugh… why did I even bother bringing this bin down?” Amanda grumbles, “try again.” Riley taps on the building blocks again. “Obviously that is not the answer!” Now only the snowflake box remains. Riley taps it. “That’s right! Now let’s get our snow gear o-” the tape freezes. Margret and Riley wait, but the TV stays frozen. 

“This TV is such a piece of junk. It does this all the time… all the TV needs is a good WHACK!” Margret says, smacking the tv. The tape unfreezes, Amanda and Wooly hold their heads in pain. 

“Ow!” Wooly shouts. 

“What was that for?” Amanda whines. The tape glitches. “Let’s get our snow gear on!” Amanda says. The tape fades in and out and now Amanda is dressed in her snow gear, wearing a puffy coat, gloves, snow pants, a warm hat, a scarf, and big winter boots. 

“Amanda… wears my snow-stuff?” 

“Not here.”

“Huh? Then where is it?”

“It’s not my job to keep track of your stuff Wooly.”  

“But I put my snow stuff in the box!”

“This is a bin.” 

“Then where’s the box with the snowflake on it?!” 

“Didn’t we throw all the boxes out recently?” Amanda asks. Wooly’s face goes blank. 

“Oh…” “Oh well.” Amanda shrugs.

“Guess I’m not going outside…” Wooly sighs. Amanda looks at Wooly and then at the bin.  

“Well my old winter stuff is here… I guess I’ll allow you to use it. Just this once…” she sighs, “Hold on…” Amanda gets up and leaves the screen for a couple seconds while Wooly puts on her old hat and gloves. Amanda returns with some old beat-up winter boots. 

“Amanda, I think this glove has a hole in it.” 

“Yeah Wooly, that’s why those are my old gloves.” 

“Why do you still have these? I’ve never seen you wear them…” 

“I don’t even know how they ended up here to be honest…” Amanda sighs sadly. She hangs her head low in silence for a couple of seconds. “Amanda… by any chance… Do you have a coat I could borrow?” 

“Do you really need a coat? I mean, you got all that wool, don’t you?” Amanda asks. 

“I mean…” 

“Ugh… fine.” She sighs, she takes off her scarf and wraps it around Wooly. “There, happy?”

“Amanda, this is not a coat…” 

“Well I’m not a genie Wooly. Deal with it.” Amanda suddenly claps her hands together, causing Wooly to flinch. “With that settled, let's go outside!” Amanda cheers. The tape glitches to Amanda and Wooly in a snowy backyard. It is still snowing. 

“Hey look Amanda, I can catch snowflakes on my tongue!” Wooly says, though it is a bit hard to understand him with his tongue out catching snowflakes. 

“What are you five?” Amanda scoffs. Wooly looks sad. “There are lots of things we can do on a snow day! My favorite thing to do is… is…” Amanda bends down and starts gathering snow into a ball then she turns around and chucks it at Wooly. “Snowball fight!”

“Oh I’m gonna get you for that!” Wooly bends over and makes an even bigger snowball that he chucks at Amanda. Amanda smoothly moves out of the way. 

“Miss me! Miss me!” she taunts, bending down to gather a new snowball.

“I won't miss again!” Wooly chuckles. Amanda glances behind her to see what Wooly’s up to and gets a snowball right in the face. She turns around and reveals her arms are full of snowballs. “Oh dear.” Amanda manages to hit him with half of them. 

“Grrrrr…” Wooly bends over and starts making another snowball. Amanda gasps and runs behind the picnic table, which she tips over to make a shield. Wooly looks up. “HEY THAT’S NOT FAIR!” Amanda hits him in the face with another snowball. “You're cheating!” Amanda turns to us and giggles. 

“I’m going to hide behind here and make snowballs and you can throw them at Wooly for me okay?” Amanda whispers. 

“Ooooh fun.” Margret grins, cracking her knuckles. Every time Amanda holds out a snowball, Margret would tap the screen directly at Wooly’s face. Then she noticed a glitch where she could just keep tapping the screen and Amanda wouldn’t even need to hand her a snowball.

“Uh…” Amanda looks confused and a little bothered by this.  

“What are you doing?!” Riley hissed. 

“What? It’s fun!” Margret cackled. 

“Until he gets angry!” 

“Haha! Wooly doesn’t get angry!” 

“ENOUGH OF THIS!” Wooly screams, throwing his scarf on the ground. Amanda watches him head back towards the house. 

“Wha? That’s not right… you’re supposed to come over and get me in the face with a snowball remember? That’s how this always goes!” Amanda calls out, sounding really disappointed. Wooly ignores her and storms inside. “Ugh now look at what you did. Now I can’t have my snowball fight.” Amanda pouts, crossing her arms. Then she looks at the snowball next to her and chucks it at the screen. “What should I do now? Should I build a snowman, go sledding, or make a snow angel?” she asks us. The voice prompt appears.

“Snow angel!” Riley calls out. Amanda smiles and flops down in the snow waving her arms and legs to create an angel. She gets up to see what she made and frowns. 

“It doesn’t really look like an angel.” she grumbles. It looks like an angelic version of a certain cartoon mouse. Riley thinks. She kicks snow over it and turns back to the screen. “What should I do now?” she asks. The voice prompt appears.

“Talk to Wooly. Get him to come back outside.” Margret suggested. Amanda scowls. She elbows Riley playfully. Ooooh.

“Wrong. The options were to go sledding or build a snowman.” Amanda explains in an annoyed tone. “Try again.”

“Talk to Wooly.” both Riley and Margret said in somewhat unison. Amanda looks annoyed at the idea, but considers it.

“Mmmm… Fine!” she groans, “Wooly!” she calls out loudly. There is no response. “Oops guess he doesn’t wanna come back outside so we’ll pick something else!” Amanda shrugs. The voice prompt appears again. 

“Go inside and talk to him for real!” Margret taunted.

“Oh so you want me to clean up your mess.” Amanda groans, rolling her eyes and trudging back inside. She finds Wooly sitting on the couch sipping some hot cocoa. “Wooly!” she shouts. Wooly gets startled and starts choking on his cocoa. 

“UGH! Amanda?!” he gasps, sounding extremely irritated, he takes a deep breath and regains his composure, “You’re back quickly, was it too cold out there?” Amanda furrows her brow. He wears a smug smile. “No… it’s just… our friends kept asking me to bring you back outside.” Amanda grumbles. Wooly’s smile vanishes instantly. 

“What so they can shove five more snowballs down my throat? Hard pass.” 

“Forget it. I’ll build a snowman by myself!” Amanda grumbles. Wooly looks extremely bothered by this. 

“Fine, I'll come.” he mumbles, following Amanda outside. She rolls her eyes. Wooly digs his scarf out from under the snow and puts it on. 

“Are you stupid?” 

“What?” 

“That’s been sitting in the snow for-” Wooly tilts his head in confusion. “It will make you more cold!” Amanda exclaims. 

“Oh.” Wooly takes the scarf off and drops it in the snow once more. 

“Alright what were we doing again?” Amanda taps her chin in thought. 

“Building a snowman- OOF!” It seems the tapping the screen glitch is still in effect and Wooly had gotten hit in the face with a snowball once again with an amount of force that knocked him flat on the ground. Amanda glares at the screen. 

“Do you hate him or something?” Riley hissed. 

“Actually yeah.” Margret shrugged. Riley gives her a weird look. “I’m joking, I just really like to tease him sometimes. It’s funny and there’s never any consequences. Unlike with Amanda…” I’m not so sure about that. Riley thinks, remembering what happened to Joanne and shuddering. “That reminds me I have never seen the Amanda demon attack someone so violently before…” Margret said, tapping her chin. “That’s because it-” 

“So are you guys going to apologize to Wooly or?” Amanda scoffs, tapping her foot. Wooly’s face lights up with joy. The voice prompt appears. “I’m sorry Wooly it won’t happen again HA!” Margret taps the screen again, this time Amanda smacks the snowball to the ground. 

“No! Bad! Bad!” Amanda scolds, waving her finger, “I told you to stoppit!” What is she, a dog? Riley thinks. “I’m trying to have a snow day here and you’re messing it all up!” she screams. 

“Th-thanks for saving me…” Wooly says, twirling his fingers awkwardly. Amanda rolls her eyes. 

“I didn’t do that for you.” she groans, glaring directly at Margret. “Ugh. Let’s just build that snowman.” Amanda sighs, then her smiley demeanor returns. “To build a snowman how many snowballs do we need?” she asks. The voice prompt appears. 

“Two.” Riley answers. Amanda scowls. What did I do this time?

“No, that's not right.” she grumbles, shaking her head. 

“I thought it was…” Wooly mumbles. Me too Wooly, me too…

“Try again.” the voice prompt appears again. 

“Fifty-seven!” Margret beams. Amanda has a creepy, clearly annoyed smile on her face. “I’m really starting to like this whole, pushing Amanda and Wooly’s buttons game.” 

“I just answer some questions wrong sometimes to get a reaction, you’re just bullying them!” Riley protested.

“Whoops, did I go too far?”

“That’s an understatement.” Riley replied. Seriously… I don't want to get attacked again…

“How many snowballs do we need?” Amanda asks. The voice prompt appears yet again. 

“Three?”

“That's right!” Amanda beams. 

“Ugh but three is going to make this take forever! Can't we just do two?” Wooly complains.

“What happened to having a bit of patience Wooly?” Amanda says, winking at the screen. 

“I see what you did there.” Wooly sighs. Amanda looks quite proud of herself. “But seriously it's cold out here, let's just do two.”

“We're doing three!” Amanda insists.

“But Amanda-” 

“My d----” the tape glitches loudly, static covers the screen. “My da----” the tape glitches again. “My dad---” behind the static Riley hears Amanda let out a little screech of frustration. “And I always made our snowmen with three snowballs! Always! It has to be three! It has to be!” 

“Amanda… huh?” Amanda throws her coat in Wooly's face. 

“Wear this if you're so cold. I'm making my snowman!”

“Amanda! Put your coat back on, you'll get a cold!”

“I’d rather catch a cold then listen to you complain all day!” Amanda scoffs. Wooly looks offended by this.

“I- I'm fine Amanda I have my wool… I don't want you getting sick.” Amanda rolls her eyes and starts rolling a snowball. “Amanda put your coat back on!” Amanda ignores him. He walks over and puts her coat over her shoulders and starts helping her roll the ball. 

“Wooly… ugh whatever.” Amanda stops and puts her coat back on. If you start working on the second snowball, we'll get this done quicker.” 

“Ah, okay.” Wooly goes and starts forming another snowball. While he's doing this, he starts humming a little tune. Hey I recognize that song! I think I used to hear this on the radio… a long time ago… What was it called? Riley wonders.

“Wooly, what song is that?” Amanda asks.

“I… don't know…” Wooly mumbles, “I just know they used to play it on the radio ALL THE TIME. It was pretty annoying actually.” 

“I think I remember that… Do you remember any of the words?” Amanda asks.

“No…”

“Hum it again.”

“Um… okay…” Wooly starts to hum the melody again. 

“I think you're humming it off-key. Didn't it go…” Amanda starts humming along. 

“Yeah yeah! That's right… then it went…” Wooly starts humming a different part. 

“Yeah… but like… I think the notes were a bit higher?”

“Quit being such a critic!” Wooly pouts.

“Oh sorry, I’ve just never met someone so bad at humming before. How can you be bad at humming? It’s so easy!” 

“Is this snowball big enough?” Wooly asks flatly, glaring daggers at Amanda.

“Yeah I'd say so. I gotta finish the body and work on the head… you go get the rest of the stuff?”

“Rest of the stuff? What else do we need for a snowman?” Wooly asks. Riley taps on some sticks on the ground behind him. “Oh yeah, our snowman needs some arms! Help me pick some out!” Wooly runs over to the sticks. Does it matter? Riley wonders. They tap on a random stick. “No… that's too short. We're making a snowman not a T-Rex!” Riley taps a different stick. “Haha no. That's way too long!” Riley taps a different stick. Wooly picks it up. “I don't like the way this one feels.” WOOLY QUIT BEING SO PICKY!!! Riley thinks in annoyance. Margret picks a stick that is sticking up out of the ground. Wooly goes to pick it up, then realizes it's stuck in the ground. “Oh! It's a little sapling! A baby tree!” He giggles, “we can't use this little guy. Ah! Hold on!” Wooly disappears off-screen for a couple of seconds and comes back with his scarf. “Here… so we don't lose track of where it is!” 

“Wooly I'm done! Do you have the other stuff?” Amanda calls out offscreen.

“No!” Wooly calls back. 

“What's taking you so long?” Amanda asks, walking over. 

“Look Amanda, I found a baby tree.” 

“Oh… we'll have to dig it up.”

“What? Why?!”

“Look Wooly, it's too close to where our water pipes are underground-”

“Why do you know that?”

“Don't ask. The point is once its roots grow big it will make a big mess. We'll have to move it when the snow melts.” 

“No seriously why do you know about this-”

“Same thing happened at my house one time. There was a tree that grew too close to the piping system and my d--- had to get the tree removed and the pipes replaced. It was a massive pain in the butt.” Amanda explains. 

“I feel like this is getting really off-topic from the episode…” Wooly mumbles, looking unsure. 

“You asked.” Amanda shrugs, picking up the long stick and the short stick.

“Amanda those aren't the right sticks!” Wooly protests. 

“Right sticks? What are you talking about?” Amanda says, looking confused. The tape glitches and Amanda and Wooly are standing in front of three snowballs. “Alright, which snowball goes on the bottom?” Amanda asks. Riley taps the smallest one. “What? How do you even think that? Did you mishear me? I said on the bottom.” Amanda scolds, “Try again.” She's taking this really seriously… Riley thinks. Riley taps the biggest one. “That's right. Now which one goes on top of it?” She asks. Margret taps the medium snowball. “Right. And the smallest one goes on the very very top.” Amanda says. “Help me Wooly.” 

“Oh okay.” Wooly says. Amanda and Wooly take the medium snowball and place it on top of the biggest one. Then Amanda reaches up and puts the head on. The tape glitches and a smiling face is now on the snowman. 

“I think we outdid ourselves, Wooly.” Amanda says proudly. Wooly walks over and places two round snowballs on either side of the snowman's head.

“Look, now it's you.” He smiles. Amanda squints her eyes at the snowman. 

“Hmm…” the tape glitches and another snowman appears next to hers, with two snowballs instead of three. It bore a striking resemblance to Wooly. “Look! It looks just like you!”

“Okay I don't know if it looks just like me.” Wooly chuckles.

“It's round like you.” Amanda points out, poking Wooly's wool. “Oh wow that's soft…” she mumbles, still poking Wooly. 

“That tickles!” Wooly laughs. “Wait a minute- HEY!” Amanda runs off-screen giggling.

“Now where was that sled?” Suddenly, a bunch of random cartoon sound effects start to play. While that's happening, the opossum sneaks over.

“Hey! It's you! What are you-” the opossum kicks the two snowmen really hard and they come toppling down on top of Wooly. Amanda returns to find Wooly under a pile of snow.

“Wooly! What happen-” she notices the opossum scampering away. “That little-”

“I think we should kill him.” Wooly says, but it's muffled under all the snow. Amanda pulls him out. 

“That’s my line-” Amanda pauses for a moment and takes a deep breath, “No no it's fine…” she says through gritted teeth. “It's just snow after all…” 

“FINE?! HOW IS THIS-” 

“Now let's go sledding-ing-ing-ing-ing!” She beams, lifting up her sled. The tape glitches to them standing in front of three hills, Wooly appears to be shivering and huddling close to Amanda. “Can you tell me which one is the biggest?” Wooly looks at the biggest hill and gulps. 

“Or maybe a smaller hill…” he mumbles. Riley taps on the medium size hill. “Mmm… I don't know…” Wooly sounds unsure.

“Biggest hill! Biggest hill!” Amanda chants. 

“Actually I… I think our friend's pick will be fine.” Wooly laughs nervously. Margret taps on the biggest hill. “Nooo!”

“Yessssss! Let's gooo!” the tape glitches to the top of the hill. “Alrighty then! Front or back Wooly?”

“I mean…”

“Well if you go in front it'll probably be faster since you're-” Amanda compares their heights, “nevermind I'm taller.”

“Why did you count your hair in that?” 

“Okay fine we're the same height so it doesn't matter.” 

“I don't even want to do this.” Wooly whimpers. 

“Whatever I'm going in front.” Amanda says, sitting on the sled. She looks back at Wooly and taps the empty space behind her. He stares at her. She glares at him. “Okay I'm going. Have fun being alone up here next to those spooky old woods.” Amanda says. There indeed were some spooky-looking woods behind them. Wooly gulps.

“Wait! Wait! I'm coming!” Wooly sits down on the sled behind her. Amanda kicks the sled and makes it go down fast. Amanda is laughing her butt off the whole way down. “Amanda… what's that bump up ahead?” Wooly asks.

“Huh? Uh-oh.” There was a big log in the middle of the snow. The sled hit it and flung Amanda and Wooly into the air and back down face-first into the snow. “THAT WAS AWESOME LET'S DO IT AGAIN!” Amanda shouts excitedly. 

“I think I saw my life flash before my eyes… ACHOO!” 

“Oh come on Wooly it wasn’t THAT bad was it?” 

“I'm COLD.” Wooly snaps, before slipping on some ice and landing back into the snow. “UGH I HATE SNOW DAYS!” Amanda looks at the screen awkwardly. “I'm cold, I'm wet, and I WANT TO GO HOME!” Wooly shouts miserably.

“Well this is new…” Amanda mumbles. “C'mon Wooly, pull yourself together…” 

“I just wanna go home…”

“Okay okay… we're going home, we're going home! Pick yourself up… wow you are cold…” she says, helping Wooly off the ground. She unzips her coat and wraps it around him.

“I told you I don't need that.”

“Put it on.” Amanda says sternly. Wooly puts on the coat. Amanda immediately goes to zip it up. “Ugh why do you always have so much wool? The zipper keeps getting stuck! There we go! Sheesh! They don't call you Wooly for nothing!”

“Amanda…” Wooly grumbles. 

“I'm just teasing you a little. Chill out. Oh wait-” Amanda starts to giggle. Wooly rolls his eyes. “Alright Wooly, let's get home!” Amanda beams. The credits theme starts playing and the credits roll. The Hameln logo appears and starts glitching all over the place before the tape falls out. Weird. Riley thinks. 

“Interesting… I've never seen Wooly get upset like that before…” Margret pointed out, “though it could just be that I haven't been watching the tapes as long as Kate…”

“It’s rare but… I don’t think we want to push it… see about Joanne’s death-” 

“Alright Margret, I think I have everything.” Kate sighed, looking and sounding completely exhausted. 

“That was fast… I need to double check…” Margret said skeptically. 

“Wait-” “Guess that means you’re on puzzle duty Riley!” Margret said with a wink, making finger guns at Riley. When am I not on puzzle duty? Riley wonders. They look back at the fallen tape. I really think we should be a little more careful around Wooly…

Authors Note: Not 100% sure how canon they act in this. I think at some point I might've stopped caring a little. I decided I wanted Margret to be silly. We need a comedic character in these trying times. What with all the angst and whatnot.

[whispersoflullaby]

"Breaking" the gendering of media: A case study on Shiguang

A question kept coming back to my mind again and again, that why do we tend to criminalize whenever we see a media which was "canonically" (the term canon icks me to the core) built to portray a broader political or social issue being used to deconstruct personal emotions? For example, a song used to portray the pain and horrors of partition being used to reconstruct the grief of personal loss and also about loss of identity. As if talking about personal loss is making a topic less serious or not respecting the depth of a subject. As if it is the continuation of the gendering the places being implicted upon media. The "oikos" (the personal space) , the "non serious" personal emotions are not meant to be dragged into the "polis" (the public sphere). When we take the journey from the home to the world, our personal journey becomes a palimpsest of many others which give us a feeling of community. When we get the feeling that our dilema is not only ours but a shared feeling of many, we tend to raise questions and break the boundary of the "home and the world", it tend to give us a vocabulary to curate.

Link Click as a series breaks this notion of differentiating between the the struggles. The suffering of the world is mine as well as my sufferings are also a matter to discuss, to analyze and to deconstruct, it's of everyone. For example the the incidents of sudent suicide due to excessive educational loan or even if it is about trying to save one's mother or about spreading the word of love, even if it is about the very domestic banters of Shiguang or it is about taking a step further to help Xu Shanshan and not taking money from her and just mere "helping" her to unite with her beloved .

As a very close friend of mine once mentioned " Shiguang through their love creates a brand new "vocabulary" of love" (if they gives me permission I will definitely tag them), the vocabulary enables them to question the normativity. And questioning the normativity makes you a threat to the authority - cause when you ask the right question at the right time , it makes your identity identifiable and then the authority can't treat you like a mass, a mass to be dismissed, to be discarded. I can't control my urge to quote Derek Walcott's "The Schooner's Flight" here- "I am either nobody or I am the nation" .According to me, probably this is how censorship also works - they fear the creation of the new vocab. The love which revolts but don't conform: a love which doesn't leave , but questions the normativitives. We try our best within our capacity - but what love does it doesn't know the capacity. ( They just don't know, how much love is too much love). That's what is so unique about the love of Shiguang. Here I am gonna quote TGCF " Your Highness..do you know why I refuse to leave this world?... because I still have a beloved in this world." - বিনা যুদ্ধে নাহি দিবো সূচাগ্র মেদিনী - ( I will not leave even a pinch of soil, without a fight). The guts to challange the person in control even though one is not sure about the price he has to pay, even self anhilating from each and every freaking time is probably a better option. You are not someone I choose over everything, you are the one who is inseperable from the concept of "being" of mine- you are the "I" of my eye.

The abilites here not only stand for the ability to change, but taking away the ability also stands for usurping one's ability to try, the silencing of emotions. Once your voice is strangulated you are creating a "destiny" for the opressed it is no longer their fate. Here I am gonna refer to a Bengali song "মোদের কোনো দেশ নেই,মোদের কোনো ভাষা নেই" (We don't have any country, we don't have any language)

But do you know where link click breaks the very gendering? When it identifies the silencing, the numbing. Many media portrays the consequences of the silencing, how the torture affects the people etc etc. But Link Click does is, it identifies where the mess ups are and it doesn't promise that "everything will be ok" and life will be "a bed of roses". No, it never will be- that's not what post modernism teaches us. Rather, Link Click teaches it may not be a smooth walk but still we will take the path as there is no "correct" path. As the author of the Ronxi chronicle mentions - it may not be the easiest path but you will never regret it. The concept of "correctness" is a construt, the "originality" is a mere myth and "TIME"!! … As we all know " Time is a hypocritical construct"...

[ropebunnykant]

alright so exactly one person asked about my use for the parallel scene i used in this taming x thk web weave (thank you @hurlumerlu you have nooo idea how much i was wanting to go in depth about this but was holding myself back shskdhd) so here’s a bit of an explanation!

for context, the parallel i was attempting to draw is lucentio asking bianca to elope versus kant suggesting that he and bison run away together. and the thing about that parallel specifically is that we don’t actually see bianca and lucentio discuss eloping in the play.

at this point in the play, lucentio and bianca are essentially backed into a corner when it comes to their courtship. while they’ve both agreed they love each other and want to get married, they're also unable to despite all of their obstacles being out of the way and it's kind of lucentio's fault? like objectively it's more baptista's, because he's the one that set the rule about no one being able to marry bianca until katherine was married, but it's still lucentio's way of dealing with it that leads to them being stuck in this tricky situation. despite katherine now being married and lucentio technically able to pursue her freely, he isn't able to because he has spent the entire play disguised as her school teacher (called cambio) and has had his friend/servant, tranio, pretending to be him and acting as the actual suitor. and while sure, tranio can continue his "courtship" of bianca in that way, it wouldn't actually be lucentio that ends up marrying her if that's the case. so, it's all basically a mess that they would have to confess and explain to baptista. so this other character biondello decides to help them out and set up an elopement for them - better to ask for forgiveness than permission right?

but, in the play, we only see biondello telling lucentio about these arrangements he's made, and then later we briefly see lucentio, bianca, and biondello meeting up before they go offstage to have the two of them elope. we never actually see bianca and lucentio discuss eloping - and it's because of the line that i used in the parallel.

after talking to biondello about the arrangements, lucentio is left alone on the stage and he says "i may and will, if she be so contented. / she will be pleas'd, then wherefore should I doubt? / hap what hap may, i'll roundly go to her; / it shall go hard if cambio go without her." which, roughly what he's saying here is "i'll go ask her. i'm sure she'll be happy about it."

essentially the reason we aren't shown bianca and lucentio discussing the idea of eloping is because it's assumed that she'll say yes. there's no doubt that she wants to marry lucentio, that she wants them to be together, and if this is the only way for it to work out for them, lucentio knows she'll do it. and while i used the line because it is the closest we get to him outright asking her in the play, it also makes such a delicious parallel when compared to the heart killers.

because in that scene at the bowling alley, kant and bison are stuck in a situation partially of kant's own making. yes, at the end of the day it's captain christ's fault that he's in this situation, but kant is the one that ratted bison out, kant is the one that fell in love, and kant is the one laying on the floor of the bowling alley with bison, asking him to run away together.

because kant knows it's their only way out. but the difference is that kant doesn't know that bison will say yes with the same surety that lucentio knows bianca will. he lets himself hope in that moment, but he's not surprised when the answer comes and its a no. because bison doesn't understand the stakes in the same way bianca does. because bianca was let in the whole time on what was going on, but kant hid things from bison and bison closed his eyes to it all until it was too late. and so he doesn't know the severity of what kant is asking, how it's their only chance at being together. and even if he did, would he even say yes to kant then, knowing the truth? knowing kant is the reason their only way of being together is to run? it's just... so heartbreaking from every angle in that sense.

[everythingspokenfor]

Part 4

─ ・┈ ・ ── ・┈ ・ ── ・┈ ・ ─

No conclusion was drawn that day, Bakugou couldn't answer your question, you didn't bother questioning him further, the day continued in silence, he helped you organise things a bit more before leaving in the evening.

You didn't like being alone with your thoughts, especially ones that were regarding your unrequited love for Bakugou. On one hand you wished that he loved you back, that he could see how you were always there for him, on the other hand, your rationalized that he wasn't obligated to love you back, and that you should move on.

Life did continue as usual, your leave from agency was finished and you returned back to work. Mostly you avoided Bakugou, but with your work overlapping it was difficult at times. Unintentionally you ended avoiding your friends too, Kirishima had tried talking to you, he was the only one aware of your feelings, apart from that you hadn't really talked to anyone.

"I thought he'd be angrier than usual."

"Yeah, considering his break up, I thought someone would be fired."

"Still I am not crossing paths with Dynamight."

"What??" You blurted, not really ashamed that you were eavesdropping, the two employees looked at you shocked, before one of them uttered,"We were just discussing Dynamight's break-up."

"Sorry what?? When did that happen?" You questioned suddenly feeling guilty over something that may have been your fault unintentionally.

"Few days ago, I think."

"Okay, thanks. Also don't go around discussing your boss!" You abruptly left the hallway, swiftly moving towards the elevator.

Thousands questions arose in your mind, internally questioning why the break up may have happened.

You slammed the office door open, causing Bakugou to look towards the noise, and let out a breath upon seeing your figure.

"Finally you want to talk.", He crossed his arms and leaned against the table.

"Why did you break up with her?"

"I didn't." He admits, hand running through his hairs. Before you could question him, he spoke again,"She broke up with me."

"Why?"

"Why does it matter?" Bakugou scoffed, sharp eyes glaring at you.

"Because you were in love with her, Asshole, and you don't just let go of things you love." You yelled, hands coming up to rub your forehead, impending headache starting to settle.

"I let you go, tho." He walked over to you, noticing the slight widening of your eyes before you steeled your expression. "That was a mistake. But still I let you slip away."

"Don't speak bullshit, Bakugou." You grit out,"This isn't a fucking joke."

"She broke up with me, said you should date someone that doesn't fucking drain you." He said,"told me that I was happy when you were there." He moved to hold your hands,"I fucked up by not figuring out my feelings, dated someone because they reminded me of you." His voice broke, ruby eyes filled with tears as he lamented.

"Didn't apologise when I was given a chance, I love you, so, so much, and I wish everyday that I figured that out sooner" He whispered, head resting on your shoulder," I don't know if I deserve it, but I need you to give me another chance, let me love you right."

You let out a breath, chest suddenly aching more, the confession you always wanted, now suddenly making you bitter.

"I suffered for months, Suki." You sobbed, hands coming to first against his chest, trying to push him away, but Bakugou held your wrists, pulling you into his arms.

"You don't get to have me, Katsuki." You try to pull away from him, afraid that any second more and you'll start crying.

"Please, let me love you right, swear on my life I won't fuck up." He uttered, desperation evident in his voice, his grip loosened on your wrist, allowing you to make the decision.

Whether to stay or pull away. You chose to stay, collapsing against Bakugou's chest, sobbing in his arms. His arms encircled you, holding you tight, one hand rubbing the back of your head.

"I'll be good, this time I'll be good." He muttered, before pressing his lips against your forehead.

"This doesn't mean all that pain went away, Suki." You mumbled, cheeks smushed against his chest, you looked you at him eyes tired, nose and cheeks red from crying.

"I'll fix it, all of it." He affirmed, nothing was going to get in his way of fixing his mess up, he would prove to be worthy of your love till his last breath.

"Also either you are moving back with me or I am moving in with you." He stated with confidence, ready to settle in with you.

─ ・┈ ・ ── ・┈ ・ ── ・┈ ・ ─

[sunnyxjarrus]

Anyone else hate when people say if you didn’t do it you wouldn’t act guilty

like no I just feel very surrounded and trapped in this situation and that nothing I say will be right

or is this just me